#I'm not too good when it comes to accent so I'm curious - does she *sound* Eastern European to the English native speakers?

[thunderboltfire]

I don't know the broader context, but it's somewhat funny to mention Nevarra in the same breath as Eastern European feel, when the first name that comes to my mind when I think of it is Navarra - a historical kingdom and currently a region in Spain. Anyway, I have a hard time trying to find a geographical name in Thedas that sound distincly Eastern European. Are there some?

The funniest thing BioWare can do is make it so Cassandra is the only person in Thedas with her accent and Emmrich is just some English bloke

[lordansketil]

I've been slowly reading Character & Caricature and leaving perhaps somewhat embarrassingly gushy comments - but, look, it's transcendently good. I'm curious, do you have a particular person/piece of art/etc. in mind as a visual reference for Gwen? I'd love to see your idea of how she looks. Ditto, Prinny's voice is described (beautifully) in the text - do you hear him as Peter Egan in Prince Regent, or a bit different? What about Gwen, what does she sound like?

Oh, you are too lovely! I tend to just imagine the character in my mind rather than cast someone, but Gwendolyn, with her dark brown eyes and black hair, is inspired by a combination of Regency fashion plates and portraiture, but with much thicker naturally curly hair rather than the perfectly set hair that was in vogue. I recently saw this painting of the Duke of York's famous mistress, Mary-Anne Clarke, by Adam Buck is which comes close (although Gwendolyn is thinner due to all she's been through). The amazing @suburbanbeatnik did a drawing of Gwen and Prinny that I love.

I actually gave Gwen my late mother's voice, which I realise doesn't help anyone as a description. A little hoarse (sometimes shrill) and she's very aware of this and consciously softens her voice. In terns of how I write her speech patterns, she speaks very correctly. As a poor relation from the lowest rung of the gentry, with lower class relatives, she clings to what she understands as "proper" speech to give the impression of being better educated than she really is.

Prinny's speech patterns, on the other hand, are a whole different ball game. I don't hear him as Peter Egan... except when I've just re-watched the show!

George IV is recorded as being a bass-baritone and, while his letters are very elaborate and over the top, reports of his speech tend to be fun ("give me your little paw"), dry ("I always find the day is long enough for doing nothing"), distinctive ("Kingston, Kingston, you black-whiskered good-natured fellow!"), and ridiculous ("a sort of mishmash, Solomongrundy, ollapodrida kind of business") and there's lots of reports of him being self-deprecating ("my tyrannical self at breakfast"), grovelling to his lovers ("thank you, my dear, thank you... you cannot please me so much as by doing everything you please to show that you are mistress here") and exaggeratedly boastful ("at last, godamme, ma'am, he rode slap over my favourite bitch, Ruby. I could stand it no longer, but jumping off my horse said: 'Get down you rascal! Pull off your coat!' By God, he did, and we fought for an hour and twenty minutes. He was carried off senseless, whilst I had hardly a scratch!").

Apparently he pronounced "oblige" as "obleege", which suggests the very fruity accent that's associated with British royalty, and used ain't ("she's my daughter, ain't she?"). Beau Brummell said he could have been a great comic actor and he was considered to be an extremely talented mimic.

So with this as a base, I've given him a consciously exaggerated way of speaking. A sort of theatrical patter that involves mixing a Scarlet Pimpernel style drawl with period slang and swearing that comes across as charming, but not at all proper... right up until he gets offended by something and then his speech becomes ultra formal and intimidating. At some point I decided as a hard rule that he says "'tis" and Gwen says "it's" and there's probably something there about her careful speech and modern contractions and his more casual speech and antiquated contractions.

Thanks for the ask! <3

[salteytakesonmanga]

So i don't know if it's a translation thing or anything else, but i just feel like it's interesting that Nami's thinking "if i say I'm Luffy and Zoro's shipmate", because even if she doesn't know Sanji that well at this point of the story she should definitely count Usopp among them, you know? But it's like her brain (or her heart?) integrated the idea that she was part of the crew since she met Luffy and Zoro, and it's just natural for her to think it that way, than to think she hasn't even joined them yet. Idk if i make sense but yeah, just a quick reflection i had!

You actually had it right the first time: it’s a translation thing. (Anon is referring to this scene.)

In Japanese Nami says “Luffy-tachi.” “-tachi” is a useful suffix that we don’t have a good equivalent for in standard English, but it’s basically creating a group. So “kimi-tachi” is “you guys” or “you all,” or if I saw a bunch of cats I might call them “neko-tachi.” But it doesn’t have to be a homogeneous group - a group of animals that includes a cat could also be called “neko-tachi,” but it kind of implies the cat is the leader, or the one I’m most interested in is the cat.

So here Nami is referring to the whole crew - almost certainly including Usopp, from context probably including Sanji - by the captain’s name. In English you could say “Luffy and them,” but I think they chose not to use it because it comes across as either being too slang-y or sounding like an accent/dialect of English. (Though iirc Stephen Paul starts using it once he takes over?)

BUT I am with you 10,000% on how that line reads as written. And there are definitely times I think you can tell a lot about how characters think of each other by how they refer to the crew as a group. For example, when they split into teams during Skypiea how does each team refer to the others? I'm curious to see myself.

I happen to agree with you that there’s a special connection between Luffy, Zoro, and Nami. I love how you interpreted Nami's maybe-unrecognized feelings in this scene, too. I have A LOT of thoughts about the Original Trio that I’m looking forward to sharing later when it comes up in the text, so I hope you’ll look forward to that.

Thanks for sharing this!

[kiwiorcore]

tomii hi!! hope you're good and i just wanted to know what you thought about the whole hamilton to ferrari thing? i still don't know much about f1 but even i felt like this was really important 😭 and i love reading anything you say too lol so it's better from you than anyone else 🫶🏽🫶🏽 also unrelated but please talk about tennant's macbeth i'll send another ask if i have to, i'm so curious!! love you and i hope you're doing well!!

hii! sorry for the late response

honestly i don’t think the reality of lewis moving to ferrari has well and truly set in. it’s just a bit confusing for me why he’s doing it cause merc doesn’t stink that badly and ferrari isn’t that good either. i don’t have anything insightful to say it’s just kinda like ‘wait is this seriously happening?’

spoilers for david tennant’s macbeth under the cut i guess??? can you really spoil macbeth?

so my drama teacher chose this production for out live performance review and oh my god was it good. like where do i even start

the staging was so good i loved it so much. i liked the like glass enclosure they had behind the stage. it was such an interesting staging decision. the lighting as well was sooo good. it’s such a joy to analyse. the live music they had added so much to the production it would have not been the same without it

someday i wish to be like max webster because only he could’ve come up with the idea to use binaural sound for the whole production. the witches at the beginning??? i jumped i loved them so much

david tennant was so good for the role of macbeth. he’s got a very insane look about him and he plays macbeth really well

on the topic of macbeth, cush jumbo played lady macbeth so well. i loved lady macbeth in this actually. everything about her made her feel like and outsider from her northern accent when the others had scottish accents and the fact she was the only one wearing white. just ugh i love it

malcolm and macduff had bigger roles in this production than others. i wish ross did as well because i love moyo akande but oh well. the time she was on she was really good she’s literally my idol

the actors playing malcolm and macduff must have had bills due during the scene ross comes and tells macduff his wife and kids are dead because that was the make gut wrenching thing i’ve ever watched. noof ousellam (macduff) portrayed macduff’s emotions so well and ros watt (malcolm) really convincingly made himself seem as if he was on the brink of tears

speaking of ros watt, omg ros watt. i loved everything about him. his physicality during the 2nd prophecy, his pleading with macduff, god everything was perfect. ros watt was perfect to play malcolm especially considering he’s smaller than the rest of the cast. just delicious. he’s got those big sad eyes that i love

noof ousellam as well. big massive sad eyes like that’s baby girl (he’s over six feet tall). when he was all up in malcolm’s face shouting, dear god i loved it. my little pea brain starting whirring. something about their height difference does it for me.

this is getting long so let me finish quickly. lady macduff, her screams were fucking bone chilling. the porter was so funny. his actor does really well in comedies. banquo was so fit omg. the child actor they had playing like all the children (and he died so many times poor kid) was surprisingly good as well

i desperately want to write about this version of macbeth/the cast (the guy playing donalbain has a podcast called putting it together and his interviews with the other cast members are really good) but i fear no one actually gives a shit

[iznsfw]

The Flower Never Withers

BLACKPINK's Park Chaeyoung (Rosé) x Male Reader Smut

I'M BACK BITCHES!! I told you guys I'd be back. Hell, with the Ssamkkura news and Esper, how could I not make a return?

But for now I'll just put out this Rosé quickie. She's been on my mind too much lately. Enjoy!

You immediately recognize who she is when the scent of lavenders invades your nostrils. Although she is named after a different flower, the color of the flowing dress and its powdery smell all point to the purple wisps.

She settles beside you in the backseat and closes the door. And from there on, the limousine takes a detour so you could enjoy her more tonight—or maybe it doesn't; maybe it is still taking the right route to the concert. Either way you couldn't tell; Chaeyoung's lips are intoxicating you too much, while her rocking hips take another ride besides the vehicle: on your thigh.

You could feel her slim legs and arms wrap around you like a ribbon does to a birhday gift. You relish the warmness her body makes your own feel, kissing her back with probably even more excitement. While closing the door of the limousine shows you a different side of Park Chaeyoung, setting back her blonde hair from her shoulders show you something almost as good: her pale delicious neck.

You almost feel like a vampire when you sink your teeth into it, licking the sweet skin that she loves to give everyone a glimpse of. And although you'd hate to admit it to her, with the way the dress hugs her figure and shows her milky arms and legs, you actually do like a good show.

So you take the opportunity to show yourself more of her. You slightly pull down the top of the dress so that you could capture those pretty breasts for your own. Swirl your curious tongue around one nipple and she lets out the first gutteral cry of the night, a sign that what you are doing is one of the things that succeeds in getting her there. Chaeyoung tugs your head closer while her head throws back, eyes closed and her fingers pulling at the blunt strands on your scalp. Her wetness begins to make a mess on the leg of your pants, but you don't mind at all; you even flex your thigh further, aiming your knee for her clitoris to keep her stimulated.

"Hmm, daddy."

She purrs these words as you steadily rub the core of your knee on her sensitive nub. Grateful for the ministration, she makes her own by raising her hips and settling back down onto your leg needily, all while her fingers trail down from the back of your head to your broad shoulders.

Then Chaeyoung looks you straight in the eyes in a way that almost intimidates you if she weren't pleading. "Please," she says, "I need it."

She squirms herself onto the mast struggling beneath the fabric of your pants. She whimpers quietly as the wetness in her core increases and drips down onto your lap, indifferent to the fact that more heat is beginning to develop in your core because of the sheer friction her pussy causes.

Her whines and begging only rile you up further to give it to her. Unable to hold back anymore, you pull her closer and start viciously attacking her lips. The taste of her lips is lovely enough, but even a sponsored expensive lipbalm could never come close to how delicious Chaeyoung's mouth is. You love how you could feel her moans vibrate against your lips and her tongue curl around yours, but you take a break from that to press kisses to her jaw and neck.

You nibble softly at her jaw. One of your hands rests behind her neck while the other caresses her squirming thighs. While you watch her sigh and moan, you lick the back of her ear and whisper to her: "You know, Chaeyoungie, I've always loved this perfume."

"That's why I wore it today, daddy," she answers cheekily. God, that accent of hers never fails to turn you on.

"Well, I like it, baby. But what you shouldn't be wearing right now is this dress of yours."

Corny, you know, but it doesn't sound like that at all to Chaeyoung's ears. She giggles even, giving you a kiss before caressing your cheeks with her thumbs.

"You know I can't, daddy," she tells you patiently, closing her eyes as you begin to caress her collarbone and neck with your lips in hopes of convincing her otherwise. "You know that… hangh, I have a concert to do. And it took a long time putting on this dress."

"Hm, fine."

"It's alright, daddy, I'll make it up to you after the concert, okay? But for now…" She pulls up the lavender dress and winks at you. "The dress stays on."

"And I stay in."

You surprise her with a quick thrust of your dick inside her. With all the talking she has done, she gave no mind to you springing out your rod and giving it a few quick pumps to prepare yourself for her. So now after a high-pitched gasp of surprise, she buries her face in your neck, squealing in its crook while her contracting walls fail to properly adjust to your length and size.

Rosé is still as tight as ever. Her sultry moans may be hot, but they don't distract you from how slick and tight she is. Her walls squeeze you tightly, the velvety feeling massaging your cock while you slip it in and out of her.

"Hangh! Oh my god!" Chaeyoung cries out as your rod penetrates her continuously. While there is pain because of the way you stretch her out, she can't deny the heavenly feeling of your mushroom head rubbing at her sensitive spots. Each stimulation of one of them guarantees a rush of juices, making it easier to thrust into her.

Is it inappropriate to fuck your fiancé before her concert? Yes. Oh, and while in the presence of the poor driver who probably wants nothing to do with this? Definitely! But you can tell that it's the boldness, the danger that makes this so arousing for her.

You can see it in the way her eyes constantly dart to the driver, as if wanting to know his reactions; the increasing volume of her pretty moans, the hardened force of her bounces on your erection so that the obscene sounds of coitus can be heard more clearly.

Park Chaeyoung loves a good risk, and you are about to aid her in this particular one.

Grinding into her delicious wetness, you raise your hips to meet her steady bounces. Her cunt tenses but her mouth parts to let out a well-needed scream. It continues—a string of curses and cries riddled with a moderate Australian accent—till you partially silence it with your lips pressing against hers.

It's all tongue and scream and teeth. Your hands curl through Chaeyoung's blonde strands while your teeth gently bite down on her lower lip. Meanwhile the bounces of your thigh assist her in her own riding. With it, your cock is able to slide into her tight hole from tip to base, filling her up completely.

"Almost there, almost there!" she cries out loudly. Chaeyoung slams herself down on your lap, urgently grinding herself onto you and clenching as hard as she can. "A-Almost there, daddy, please!"

Your mind is too dazed by sex and lust to wonder if she is talking about the nearing location of the concert venue or her own orgasm. But what it registers is that, either way, you have to go faster.

Eyes fixated on Chaeyoung's face slowly being overcome by pleasure, you pound her even faster till it becomes difficult to do so because of how hard she is clenching around you. Even so, you push and pull out furiously, the two of you becoming two sinners in the night, whose selfish, dirty minds are set only on reaching your highs.

The air-conditioner does a poor job of cooling the heat that envelops the two of you. Another coat of slick covers your dick, and soon all you could sense is the loud sounds of Chaeyoung's shrill cries, the subtle bounce of her boobs from behind her dress, and the dizzying smell of her perfume.

Lavenders and roses are always a good combination.

There's a certain thing in the way Chaeyoung cums that has you hooked even as your own climax hits you. Is it the look on her face—wide eyes, parted lips letting out screams? Hm, maybe, but not quite! Or is it how her pussy becomes the tightest you have ever felt it hug around you as she milks you of semen, urging you to paint her walls white as a secret not even her concert-going fans could know?

Perhaps.

Either way, you diligently fuck the wetness dripping out of Park Chaeyoung's cunt back inside her. She whines a little, the waves of her orgasm still crashing onto her. But what also adds to those waves is a creamy white color as the vice-like grip of her pussy around your member forces you to spray yourself inside her.

The flower shivers in the night, covered by both the showers of rain and snow. But she never withers, not once—and her sweet smell will linger in your mind forevermore.

That is why you love her, after all.

The car comes to a pause beside the sidewalk of the venue. Outside, flashing cameras and adoring fans wait almost impatiently to see their idol, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rose in lavender.

It is a good thing the limousine windows are covered by a curtain; if they had not been, Chaeyoung's fans would probably have been horrified at the sight of her post-orgasmic state, all while seated on the lap of a mysterious lover.

But they don't get to see that; only you do.

Chaeyoung makes a heavy sigh. The sound from her is caused both by nervousness and the pleasurable feeling of your flaccid cock still tucked inside her, but the former seems to be the overbearing reason.

The driver turns to you and Chaeyoung. Although the neutrality of his face makes him seem unfazed by what has just violated his poor ears and eyes, the redness in his pale ears gives it all away.

You chuckle a little; you've got to give it to him for keeping himself focused on the road and not on the moaning lady reflected in the rearview mirror.

His unfazed demeanor doesn't fade even when he glances at Chaeyoung. You expected him to break character upon speaking with the Park Chaeyoung, Golden Voice of Korean and global popstar. But seeing that he did not, you begin to have some sort of respect for him now.

He bows his head slightly to Chaeyoung, before politely inquiring her, "Ready to go, Ms. Park?"

Chaeyoung turns to you with slightly turned-down pink lips and scrunched eyebrows, showing you the answer to the question instead to the driver, the one who made it. And in her face you can see every question running in her mind: "Can I do this?"; "What if they notice something wrong?"; "What if I do something wrong?".

And with a stroke of her hair and a soft smile, you give her the answer to her own questions:

"It'll be alright, Chaeyoung-ah. You'll do great."

You wrap her in a tight, loving hug. And you like how now there isn't any lingering lust or obscenity in it; just concern and unbridled love for the one in between the other's arms.

Your hand rubs her back for what seems like eternity. But the wait is worth it, for when she lifts her head and looks you in the eyes again, you see a renewed confidence in her face, a renewed belief that your words are true.

This girl is not any different from who she truly is, but by the smug smile that settles on her lips, you come to know that Rosé has arrived at the scene.

Blackpink's all-rounder and reknowned soloist Roséanne Park faces the driver and flashes him that same smile she gave you, but this time, wider. "Ready when you are."

The driver exits to open her own door, as formality requires. And although you can't tell the future any more than a clock decides which way its arrowed hands could go, you could tell from the moment her heel meets the road that your flower is going to bloom even more this very night.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b. barnes

chapter thirteen - “sober desires & the reminiscence of a winsome smile”

delicate masterlist

word count: 4k

synopsis: wakanda gets a visit from our favorite captain, two drinks is too much rum for a reticent psychologist, and bucky knows (& feels) more than meets the eye.

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

[A/N]: this took so long to write but WHEW this chapter!!!! pls let me know what you think >:D

The knock on the outside of his hut was followed by a deep accented voice, one that he had heard before.

"Sergeant Barnes?" it called.

Quickly enough Bucky was outside, facing the king of Wakanda himself. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. You see, the majority of their past interactions included the Black Panther trying to kill him. T'Challa was kind and Bucky trusted him. It was just... a little awkward given the history.

"Your highness," he greeted.

He smiled bashfully at the title.

"I have some news for you."

Bucky's head cocked to the side, curious. News? Should he be worried? He hadn't been expecting anything.

"Captain Rogers is on his way here. He was alerted about our recent complication with N'Jadaka," he said, referring to who Bucky guessed was who Y/N called Erik Killmonger, "and he asked to come check in, make sure you're okay."

Steve was coming. His mood was immediately uplifted. He hadn't seen his oldest friend for months. It was weird to have Steve feeling the need to make sure Bucky was okay; it was usually the other way around. Nonetheless, he was excited. And he had the sudden urge to tell Y/N.

- - -

READER

"Sharon. Hey," she said into the phone.

The friends hadn't spoken since Y/N left for Wakanda - security measures since Sharon helped Steve and betrayed the... well everyone.

"Y/N!" Sharon greeted. "How is everything? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no I'm totally okay. The Killmonger thing was more the royal family's deal than mine. I was just hiding out in some bunker with Barnes."

Concerned weaved its way into Sharon's voice. "Oh my god. Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, historically, stress hasn't affected him well..."

She wasn't sure why she almost got offended. "No... he was completely fine. He doesn't lose control out of nowhere and turn into the winter soldier. It's a lot more complicated than that... We were fine."

"Oh, that's good. Listen... I'm actually on my way to Wakanda right now."

"You're-... what?"

"Steve needed to check in on Bucky after Killmonger. Wilson and I are coming too."

They must all be together. It makes sense considering what happened after the disaster in Berlin, and then the airport fiasco in Germany and then... everything in Siberia.

Aw, they're in hiding together, Y/N joked in her head. She almost laughed out loud.

"Oh. Is that safe? For you? For everyone?"

"I've been careful. We've all been careful. But, things don't always go as planned. And T'Challa feels bad about putting you guys in a dangerous situation when he was supposed to protect you."

"It wasn't his fault."

"I know. We all know. But, it's kind of his way of making up for it: letting us stay so that Steve can check in on Barnes and we can cool off for a bit."

"Was Rogers mad?"

"Well, he wasn't thrilled that his best friend was trapped alone in a country that just got taken over..."

He wasn't alone.

"...he was mostly worried," Sharon continued. "Still is."

"Right."

"Alright, well I got to go. We'll be there in a couple hours."

"I'll see you. Be safe."

"See you."

- - -

BUCKY BARNES

"Hey Buck," the happiness in Steve's voice was genuine as he patted his oldest friend on the back in the middle of an embrace. "How you been?"

"A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you, that's for damn sure," Bucky smiled.

Sam Wilson stood next to the star spangled man with a plan. Bucky briefly glanced at him.

"Wilson," he deadpanned.

"Barnes," he returned the greeting.

"I was worried when T'Challa told me about Killmonger," Steve said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they let you stay here, but I just didn't think I'd have to be worried so soon."

"It's alright. Everything turned out okay and I was fine the whole time. You don't have to lose your head."

"I'm not losing my head."

"You never had it in the first place."

The blonde changed the topic of conversation.

"You were with that therapist right?"

"Yeah."

"What do we think about her?" he asked with equal parts caution and suspicion. "Do you trust her?"

Bucky wasn't sure why he was almost offended.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you know what happened the last time you were with a psychiatrist..."

"Yeah well, this one doesn't have a personal vendetta against the Avengers."

"You sure she's alright?"

He looked serious, and Bucky could see the genuine concern etched into his friend's face. Steve was truly wary.

"I'm positive. She's helped so much since I've been here. I really trust her."

"Okay, if you say so. I trust you."

Bucky smirked. "Hey uh... is Sharon with you?"

Sam said nothing but radiated a smirk to match Bucky's perfectly, a kind of smirk that only a ball-busting best friend cracks.

"She is..." Steve replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering, that's all."

"She said she wanted to talk to a friend."

"Oh, she's probably with Y/N."

"Who?"

"Y/N. Dr. Y/L/N. 'The therapist.'"

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Why do you think Sharon recommended her?"

"She said she knew 'the best' person to help."

"That true. She's crazy smart."

"As long as she can do the job, I'm all for it, no matter whose friend she is."

In a short-lived thought, Bucky wondered what Steve Rogers would think of who else Y/N was friends with. He wondered if Steve would think it was strange to be friends with your doctor, or if he'd be pleased that Bucky had gotten close to someone, anyone else in this world.

"How long are you guys staying for?" Bucky asked.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Honestly, we were only planning on staying for like a week or so. We've been moving throughout Europe, and the other day, when we were in Prague... it was almost really bad."

"We need to stay low for a while," Sam added.

"What did you do?" Bucky asked, used to Steve getting himself into trouble.

"It's a long story..."

"What did T'Challa say about it?"

"He said to take as much time as we needed," Steve filled him in.

"You know, I'm startin' to really like this guy," Sam nodded, smiling. "Obviously when he went all cat murderer on you, he was a bit of a pain in the ass. But now? Guardian angel."

Bucky shook his head at Sam's nonsense. What an idiot, he thought. He wondered what Y/N would think of Sam, but then a more pressing question popped into his head.

"Where are you guys gonna stay?"

"I'm guessing there," Steve said pointing behind Bucky.

When he turned around, Bucky was shocked but he also wasn't. Behind and around his hut stood three more just like it, but slightly smaller. He could've sworn those weren't there yesterday, but that's the beauty of Wakanda. They were ten steps ahead of the rest of the world and he guessed that included speed building as well.

"I will never stop loving this place," he admired.

-

He tried not to sound too eager when he knocked on her door. She looked shocked but didn't really try to hide it.

"Oh," she sounded confused. "Hi, Bucky..."

"Hey," he grinned. "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyebrows lowered as her lips twisted into the most devilish smirk. She could communicate an entire joke with just her face.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed.

She laughed, smirk morphing into an endearing smile. "Like what then?"

"Steve wanted to have like a bonfire sorta thing to catch up since we're all together for once. You know, just like drinks and stupid stories from the forties. D'ya think you could part with your paper work to grace us with your presence?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd love to have you there."

She wrung out her hands. "I don't know, Buck. Is that really appropriate? To have your doctor hangin' out with your friends?"

"That may be, but that's not what I'm asking. I want my friend to 'hang out' with my other friends."

Out of her composure seeped a meek smile. The air felt softer to him.

"And maybe you can analyze Wilson and tell me what his biggest fear is later," he added.

She snickered.

"Okay. Lead the way, James Buchanan."

-

The fire was a monster, roaring and crackling with all the life in the world. Bucky loved it. He loved the warmth, the heat, the lack of cold.

"I'm gonna get another drink," Y/N said. "You want anything, Buck?"

"I'm all set," he smiled, gaze lingering for only a second too long.

"Sharon?" she turned. "You?"

The blonde shook her head. "Oh, I think I've had plenty."

Surrounding the fire sat five chairs. All but one was empty as Y/N went to get her second drink. Of course they were in Sam's hut, Bucky thought. After all, even though it was Steve's idea, Sam was most excited about the whole thing, actually sitting down and just relaxing instead of fleeing from belligerent governments.

"Therapist's pretty," Sam noted with a smirk once she was out of hearing range.

"Y/N," Bucky corrected, mind going completely elsewhere. "She's so smart."

"Smart enough to call you Buck..." Steve said, catching on to Sam.

"What?"

"She calls you Buck."

"Yeah, so? You do too."

"Yeah, but I've known you longer. And I'm your friend."

"She's my friend too," he shrugged.

"She's your doctor..."

"And I'm a hundred year old man with one arm trying to get un-brainwashed in a country that the rest of the world doesn't even know exists. None of this is conventional."

"...fair," Steve said, with only a little bit of skepticism. "Are you guys close?"

Does spending hours alone talking with someone in a hidden bunker make you close? Does them comforting you after a nightmare and then subsequently allowing you to get the best night sleep you've had in forever? What about making daring voyages to quaint waterfalls and laughing a kind of laugh that makes your heart swell? What about-

"Buck?"

He shrugged. Again. "I guess so."

Sam narrowed his eyebrows. "How close?"

"Wilson," Sharon admonished exasperatedly. "Y/L/N's his doctor, come on. That's inappropriate to suggest."

Sam put his hands up in mock surrender. Briefly, just briefly, Bucky imagined kicking the leg of Sam's chair and watching him fall back. He didn't, obviously. But it would have been funny if he did.

The seemingly never ending conversation was cut short when Y/N returned, drink in hand, and took her seat next to Bucky.

"What'd you get?" he asked, demeanor subtly but swiftly changing into something lighter, something happier.

"I don't know, but it has rum in it," she shrugged sardonically before clinking her glass with Bucky's.

"Cheers," Sam raised his glass, trying to engage.

Y/N wordlessly, and with a half-smile, raised her glass in his direction.

"So," Steve started, comfortably crossing his legs and leaning back into his chair before asking Bucky, "you wanna know what actually happened in Prague?"

"Do enlighten me. I've been waiting all night."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

The rest of the night went on sort of like this. The group took turns telling stories and then listening. Cracking jokes and then laughing. Everyone but Y/N, Bucky noticed. She just... sat and drank, livelihood only extending to the borders of her seat.

He hadn't seen her like this before, and he found himself stuck halfway between confused and worried. Had something happened? Had something wrong been said?

He kept an eye on her as dusk melted into night. He told himself it was because he was concerned, but that was only in addition to the way he was magnetized to how she looked with the light of the fire gleaming on her skin.

After she would finish a drink, she'd stare into the fire for a little while, before leaving to get another. When he made sure no one was looking at him, he'd look at her. Discretely. At her eyes. The reflection of the fire in her pupils made him wonder if she would burn the fire before it could ever burn her. He was all too aware of the heat that accompanied her gaze. It was a ravishing burn that made him ache for the searing feeling as soon as it was taken away.

He didn't dare think of it for too long or else he would get distracted. And someone would call his name, pulling him out of a trance he didn't want to be caught in. A trance he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he was in.

The night remained as such until someone - he couldn't remember who - said they were tired, and everyone bid their farewells, and wished their good nights.

Y/N spared about a side hug to Sharon before walking off on her own. Bucky half volunteered, half insisted on tending to the fire to make sure it went out, only to ignore it as soon as everyone was gone and follow after his psychologist.

He caught up to her as she was in the middle of opening the door to her living quarters.

"Y/N."

She turned around in the spot, door wide open, staring up at him.

He bore into her eyes, looking at something, noticing her dilated pupils and hazy stare.

"You're drunk," he said, but it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah."

"But you don't seem drunk?"

"I'm not wasted," she padded into the room, carelessly leaving the door wide open for him to walk through. "Just drunk enough to remember why I didn't drink in college."

She rubbed her eyes.

"Think I want another one," she sighed, heading for the door with a bitter smile. "More rum."

Bucky gently closed the door, maneuvering himself in front of it, and blocking her from exiting. Another drink is definitely not a good idea.

He changed the subject. "Why didn't you drink in college?"

Her eyebrows raised, introducing a look that said Really? You think I don't know what you're doing?

"Wow, look at you being the voice of reason for my otherwise inebriated brain."

Nevertheless, she cooperated.

She sighed. "It just... makes me miserable. I'm a sad drunk."

"Better than a mean drunk," he offered.

"Possibly. It's a real mood killer, though."

"That why you were off all night?"

"Off... ? I don't know, I guess so... I'm usually pretty inconspicuous when I'm drunk. Didn't think anyone would really notice."

There was no hesitation when he spoke.

"I did."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry. Just... why did you keep drinking if it only makes you miserable?"

"Alcohol is a depressant," she breathed mechanically, as if speaking was difficult. "It depresses your nervous system, then you get disinhibited. Then you don't care about rationality and just drink! Then in the moment it feels kinda good... but then it makes you sad... and then you need more to blur the feeling away. It's like... the worse you feel, the more you need to drink... but then the more you drink... the worse you feel..."

"How are you drunk but still talking... sorta still like you usually do?"

She smirked, looking like she was trying not to laugh. He was glad she was smiling.

"Maybe you're not the only one with heightened metabolism as a result of the serum..."

He looked at her quizzically, amused. She wasn't making total sense, but he couldn't find it in himself to give much of a damn. She smiled, again.

"Kidding. I just have outstanding self-control."

She plopped down on the floor, deciding that she no longer wanted to use her legs. Fine motor function was overrated for intoxicated people.

He sat down with her, next to her.

"If I tell you a joke will you be less sad-drunk?"

"I already am 'less sad-drunk.' I wasn't before, but," she took a breath in, "now you're here, so... improvements have been made."

"That's good 'cause I was worried before."

She glanced up at him with brazen eye contact. Her face held a mixture of what looked like a confused and pained expression, as something changed. Some sort of realization or reality check.

She wiped her hands over her face. "God, this is so ridiculous. I'm sorry. You shouldn't be worried about me, that's not your job. I'm sorry. I should just go to bed, and you can leave..."

"I know it's not my job. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I was alright- it... it's not like I was crying at the fire or something. I was fine."

"After your second drink, you were silent almost the entire time."

"You were counting my drinks?"

Not exactly.

"I was paying attention."

"To what?"

To you.

"You completely turned into yourself. Your elbows and legs were drawn in close to your body: unrelaxed and almost apprehensive posture. You were nonverbal, didn't make any jokes, no sarcastic commentary. I was literally purposefully saying things I knew you would correct or tease or laugh at and nothing. I was waiting for a 'smartass' or a 'there's a reason behind everything' explanation or anything science related. But there was nothing."

Her face was blank. It took her a second to catch up. Blinking slowly, she shook her head, eyebrows furrowed, all emphasis on the word. "Why?"

Her tone was truly confused. It was like she, in her heart of hearts, for the life of her, could not believe he was concerned.

"Y/N you're my friend," he chided. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She averted her gaze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

"Look," his voice was soft. "I know you know everything and you know my mannerisms and micro-expressions and you know when I'm lying and whatever else 'cause you're a genius psychologist. But is it really that hard to believe that, after all the time we've known each other, I know you a little too? That I saw you for once instead of you always seein' me?"

"I think you're the only person who sees me."

The words leaked out before he thought to analyze them, tone lower than a whisper.

"Well I can't seem to look at much else."

He had never felt such potent silence. Did he just fuck up majorly? They just sat, on the floor, eyes glued to each other like twenty year old dried cement. He didn't think he could move away if he tried.

"I see you now," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Blue," she breathed. "Your eyes are so blue. I don't... think I've ever seen that shade of blue."

It happened exponentially slowly, but the closer her face got to his, the more his chest felt like it was going to burst in the best way possible. As if liquid light poured into his lungs, inflating his chest and igniting every nerve with adoration.

Her lips hovered over his so lightly it was as if it wasn't even happening, like her affection was a ghost. But it was happening, and he could feel it. He could feel the softness in her lips and the smell of the rum she drank as they combined into the wondrous dual sensation that permeated throughout his brain.

They weren't kissing by any stretch. Their lips were hardly touching. However, in that moment, he was at her mercy. He was prepared to bend the laws of nature to her will if she would allow the continuation of this feeling for even a fraction of a second more.

Until it stopped and she waned away like the moon bidding adieu to the morning sky.

Her voice shook. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't... it's-"

"No. It's not okay. It's not okay."

He leaned back, examining her face. She looked confused and embarrassed and scared.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's okay, seriously, don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, I'm... I'm drunk and I'm disinhibited and it's affecting my judgement and making me impulsive. I'm sorry."

He couldn't be exactly sure, but it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him.

Neither of them moved a muscle.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

She was silent, frozen. It reminded him of a past conversation about the fight or flight response.

Bucky stood up and offered his hand to the woman sitting on the floor in front of him. "Here."

She took it gingerly and stood up with him before wide eyes stared into his apologetically.

"Please don't feel bad," he pleaded. "Barely anything happened."

"Still..."

"Why don't you just get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow. I promise it won't seem like such a big deal when you're sober."

She nodded but they both remained motionless, hands still together. He knew they needed to let go, but her hand didn't move, and she just kept looking into him.

"Okay," she whispered.

She walked him to the door, hand still in hand, and until he was forced to let go of her to open it. He stepped, ever so slowly, out of her room and onto the grass outside. He looked up at her, the doorway between them suddenly feeling like worlds of distance. They stood on opposite sides of the open door like statues. Bucky didn't know what to do and he wasn't sure what to say.

He settled on a, "Goodnight."

He tried not to make it sound so weak and timorous but he failed entirely. He didn't want to leave her like this. Guilty and alone. God knows he knew what it felt like.

Her voice was dry and quiet. "Goodnight."

He wasn't sure when the door shut or which one of them had shut it. The only thing he was sure of was the feeling of formidable regret pooling in his stomach.

On one hand, there was regret for letting her lean in and get so close because now he was scared that their dynamic was ruined and worried that Y/N felt awful. On the other hand, there was regret that he just let her pull away. Regret that he didn't lean in more and shamelessly drown in her. Regret that he didn't unapologetically suffocate himself with the softness of lips, the inebriating smell of rum on on her tongue, and the utterly bewitching taste of her he was sure would follow.

He wasn't sure what he felt, to be honest. He was a muddle of emotions of which he had no idea how to sift through. Momentarily, he wished he was drunk so he wouldn't have to think so hard. Then, he remembered the saying, "drunk words are sober thoughts," and he was damn glad he was stone cold sober; he could only imagine the things he would say to her if he was drunk.

This lead him to pondering, it got the gears in his brain turning. It made him wonder. Maybe... just maybe... if drunk words were sober thoughts, then what if drunk actions were sober desires?

Thinking like this could cause him read the situation completely differently. Thinking like this could make him read the situation in such a way that conceived the slightest sliver of hope for emotions gone repressed. Hope is dangerous...

Hope is dangerous, so Bucky shoved it down into the deepest cavern of his brain, the very same cavern where his feelings for her resided. It was a monster in a cave, growling and hissing menacingly. Intensely.

It scared him, this intensity. It scared him so much that the only way he could fall asleep was by thinking about the way James Buchanan sounded when she said it with a winsome smile.

delicate taglist: ​@bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @quxxnxfhxll @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 3

The next morning, after breakfast at the hotel, a call was made up to your room. It wasn't until you put the phone down that you realised you didn't have a way to contact Zemo. It was good he knew where you were staying. You would have to make sure to get his number later.

It felt strange to think about that. If he had your number, wouldn't that be like taking the next step? Were you getting carried away with this? Probably.

You couldn't ignore the fact you liked Zemo.

You never expected to develop a crush on a racing driver. It seemed like he liked you too, but you didn't want to get too carried away. This might very end up being a one time thing.

You make your way down to the lobby. Zemo is waiting for you. He looked so extra, but so stylish. A fur collared jacket, driving gloves, sunglasses on his head.

He turned when he heard you approach. His face lit up with a smile as you got closer to him.

"Good morning."

"Morning. You're looking smart today," you look him up and down, not so subtly checking him out. So much for trying to feel in that crush.

"Thought I would make an impression on you."

"You already did."

Zemo smiles at that. There was a proud feeling in knowing he had you hooked. Perhaps this would lead somewhere, but he would see. He didn't want to rush things and ruin any chances he may have with you.

He wouldn't do that.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Zemo leads you outside where another fabulous car is parked. You look at it, top to bottom. He can tell by your expression you're impressed.

"Just how many cars do you have?"

"Many. I could show you my collection if you like," he says, walking over to the car and opening the door for you.

You chuckle and climb in.

Zemo takes his sun glasses and puts them on as he gets into the drivers seat. He grins at you as he sets off.

You roll the window down and let the wind mess up your hair, wanting to feel that free feeling you got that first time. Even just sitting next to Zemo brought about all kinds of exciting feelings.

Zemo turned on the radio as he drove through the streets. There was a little drive to get to the garage his race car had been taken to. This gave him some time to bask in your company again.

He could get used to having you around all the time. In fact, he would love that.

Zemo considered himself more of a solo racer. Tony Stark always had fans hanging about, 'dates' in his stand watching him race. Zemo only ever had his pit crew waiting for him at the end of a race.

It was beautiful out. Even more so when you excited the town and got onto more open roads. You had no idea where he was taking you exactly, but you couldn't complain. if he got to see sights like this every day, that was amazing.

You glanced at him. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, in time to the music playing on the radio. He looked so relaxed and in his element.

Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to you with a grin.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You just... look so at home."

He laughs, the sound joyous and wonderful. It makes your heart skip a beat.

"I live in the drivers seat."

You laugh with him.

"What do you say we speed this up? Just like last time," he peers at you over his shades.

"Alright. Thrill me."

You didn't need to say any more. He pushed his foot down on the pedal and you laughed as the car sped up. With such ease, the car glided down the road. Not another soul in sight as the scenery became a blur, just like that first day.

No rules. No restrictions. No Stark.

Just two people enjoying each others company on the open road. What more could a man ask for?

In the distance, you spot a building. That had to be where he was taking you.

"Where is this?"

"It's an old air strip. Hasn't been used in decades. I come here to drive often. I asked my team to bring the car here so we can take a look at it, thought you may also appreciate the area."

You smile.

"It's stunning. There's nothing else around for miles."

Knowing these roads like the back of his hand, he speeds up further, gliding along the rear of the way with ease. Your laughter just fuels him to go faster.

You reach the air strip in no time. He slows down on the approach and pulls up right outside the hanger. He gets out first and opens your door for you. You chuckle as you take his hand and climb out.

Even with your hair all wind struck, you look stunning to him. He won't tell you that though.

You both head inside.

There it is. His race car. He exterior looks pretty good, just scuffed from where Stark's car collided with it, but nothing too serious. The crew were busy working away on it as you both approached.

"Who's this?" A voice asks from your right.

"This is Y/N, my new friend," Zemo says, introducing you. "Y/N, this is Sam. He is very good with cars."

"Nice to meet you." You shake his hand.

"Likewise."

"What's the damage?" Zemo walks over to his car.

"The engine gave out. That's all."

"That's all? It cost me a win," Zemo narrows his gaze at Sam.

"It could have been a lot worse. We'll have it fixed in no time."

"Good. I need to win the next one, and the other two to beat Stark. He cannot win them all." Zemo stands upright after looking over his vehicle.

"Trust us, we're on it."

Zemo doesn't give him any more of a response and returns to your side.

"Want to look around a little?"

"Yes please."

He places an arm around your shoulder and guides you out of the hanger. You're blushing from his touch. It almost felt like you were made to fit against him like this.

You both go to stand near the car.

"How come you have such a big rivalry with Tony Stark?" You ask, gazing up at him.

"He doesn't like the idea that I'm better than him."

"Humble."

"Honest. Stark is an engineer and a genius. He can build a car from scratch. I know the ins and outs of cars. I know how to make them better, how to improve them. My cars are better than his, and he is threatened by it."

"Sounds petty."

Zemo shrugs. He is not ashamed to admit he is better than Stark. His whole vendetta is to prove it. He just doesn't have many chances left to do so.

"Aren't you worried?"

"No," he looks you in the eye, "I'm certain."

"Does nothing scare you?"

"Not yet."

There is no expression on his face. You have no idea what's going on inside that head of his. You knew he knew what he was doing. This was his job, his passion. That didn't mean the risks didn't apply to him.

For some reason, Stark's words came to mind. "He's dangerous." Not just on the track, he had said.

Was he?

Who was this man standing before you? His personal information was almost non existent online. Other than his racing background, there was nothing about him. You didn't even know where he was from. His accent suggested not from around here.

Did you dare ask?

No. You didn't want to. No matter how curious you were...

"Would you like me to drive you along the strip?" He asked, nodding across the field where you could see the straight road.

"Yes. Don't go easy on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he grins.

You both get into the car and he wastes no time in driving over to the strip. This car doesn't even remotely come close to his racing car, but he'd be damned if he didn't leave you thrilled after this.

He lines up perfectly. You hold on tight and smile at him.

Wheels screeching, whole body jerking, and nothing but the wind blowing through the window. With all his skill and precision, the car speeds up in handled ease. This man knows what he's doing.

You trust him with your life.

You wanted to thank your friend for bringing you to the races that day. If she hadn't, what would you be doing now? Working? Sitting at home? Studying?

Nothing nearly as amazing as this.

Zemo brought life into your world, and you didn't want it to end.

At the end of the runway, he turns the car with ease, though the power causes you to lean toward him as he turns the vehicle around. He almost reaches out for your hand, but focuses his attention on his driving. Back up you go.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Could it be that there was one thing he wanted more than winning against Stark?

No, he didn't think so.

The car comes to a screeching halt at the end of the runway. Heaven knows how his tyres are doing.

You grin at him once the car stops.

"I'll never get tired of that."

He chuckles.

"That pleases me to hear."

Your phone rings. You apologise as you pick it up and answer it, disappointed it was ruining your fun.

"Hello?"

"Y/N? Hey, how was the race yesterday?" It was your friend.

"Oh, uh. It was good." You lied. It hadn't ended as you had hoped.

"Great. What time does your train get in tomorrow? I have something super exciting to share with you."

"About 2 o'clock I think."

"I'll be there to pick you up. Oh my gosh, you will not believe what's happened. I can barely contain myself. I'll speak to you soon."

She hangs up.

You stare at your phone, confused. She sounded super excited, whatever that was about.

"Problem?"

"Uh, no. Just my friend calling. She's going to pick me up from the train station tomorrow."

"I see. It's a shame you do not live locally. I would get to see you every day," he smiles.

You're blushing again.

"You'd get board of me really quickly," you say, tucking your phone away again.

"I doubt that."

"With your lifestyle? Definitely."

"I may live an exciting life, but you are a rare treasure any man would be lucky enough to have in his life."

"Are you flirting with me?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"That depends, is it working?"

You laugh.

"It might be."

"Then yes," he says, grinning like a fool.

You both sit there and laugh.

"Allow me to drop you off back at the hotel."

"I'd like that."

Much slower, he drives back to the hanger to alert the team he is leaving. They wave as you both leave.

The ride back is a lot more gentle, more casual. The radio is turned on, but the volume is low. Zemo is just basking in your presence.

He can't admit that he will miss you once you're gone.

The ride is over much sooner than he would have liked. Once again, you both sit there together.

You pull out your phone.

"Can I have your number?" You ask, biting the bullet.

He grins smugly.

"Already making a move?"

"Shush. Can I?"

He nods, taking your phone and putting his number into your contacts. You smile as you take it back, pretending his gloved fingers didn't brush against yours.

"I expect to hear from you," he says.

"I promise."

You go to get out, but he stops you by grabbing your arm lightly. You look at him, a little confused.

"Remember what I said."

"About what?" You ask.

"Come to the races, and I'll take you in a date."

You bite your lip.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good."

He stays there until you've gone inside, out of sight. His phone suddenly feels heavy in his pocket, waiting for a text or call.

He was in deep, he just didn't know it yet.

He thinks of you as he drives off.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch

[shift-shaping]

Solas/Surana Party Banter round whatever

hello. here it is again, but different this time! SIGNIFICANTLY. there's way more and it's a little bit ~angst-y~. anyway, here's the previous version, and here's a preface to this post.

-

In case you aren't aware of what my girl's Whole Deal is, she was in love with Alistair during the Blight and he sacrificed himself, which Sucked Balls for her. She wandered around in the mountains for most of the past ten years, and now she's in the Inquisition because she doesn't know what else to do with her life.

content warnings: brief mention of colorism

Lots of banter under the cut

Solas: Surana. Now that you have joined the Inquisition, what title do you prefer to use?

Surana: What title do you use?

Solas: None. But you have earned many.

Surana: 'Warden,' I guess. I don't really care.

Solas: Not 'Hero of Ferelden?'

Surana: No. Surana is fine.

.

Solas: You dislike your title?

Surana: It is inaccurate. Alistair was the real hero, and he died fighting the archdemon --I only ever did what I had to do.

Solas: Hm.

.

Solas: You do not think yourself a hero?

Eirwen: *sighs* If a man is ordered to save a child from a burning building or else be killed himself, is he really a hero? No, he is not.

Eirwen: Had I not been made a Warden, I would have been killed or made Tranquil. I did not choose to do the right thing. I was forced to.

.

Surana: Why do you keep asking me so many questions, Solas?

Solas: You are an historical anomaly. An elven mage elevated to the status of legendary hero.

(If the Inquisitor is an elf, a mage, or both:

Eirwen: Well apparently it’s not that anomalous.

Solas: Even still.)

Solas: I have seen echoes of your victories in the Fade alongside reflections of your losses. You have overcome a great deal. Do not be so quick to dismiss your own story.

Surana: Your dreams are lying to you. That legacy is not mine to claim.

Solas: I will not try to convince you otherwise, but know this: whatever bitterness you feel towards your legacy, you will gain far more accepting it than you ever would fighting its tide.

Surana: This isn't really about me, is it?

Solas: It never is.

.

[After All New, Faded for Her]

Eirwen: I’m sorry about Wisdom, Solas.

Solas: I appreciate that. Thank you.

Eirwen: It must have had a wealth of knowledge. It is a shame to lose so much for so little.

Solas: There is a difference between wisdom and knowledge.

Eirwen: Right, yes. I remember a joke about that. Would you like to hear it?

Solas: Not particularly.

Eirwen: *clears her throat* Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing it does not belong in a fruit salad.

Solas: ...

Eirwen: Too soon, I suppose. Sorry.

.

Solas: Thank you, Surana.

Eirwen: I told you, Dorian and I aren’t fond of that particular vintage. And we thought you’d appreciate the earthy tones.

Solas: Thank you for that as well, I think, but that is not what I as referring to.

Eirwen: Oh?

Solas: Your joke. You… it was unexpected. But not bad at all.

Eirwen: Oh. Well, that’s about the least dirty joke I know. Want to hear one a drunken dwarf told me in the Deep Roads?

Solas: Another time, perhaps.

Eirwen: Ah, you wouldn’t like it anyway.

.

Solas: Surana. You said before that a man ordered to save a child from a burning building under threat of death would not be a hero.

Solas: I disagree.

Surana: Oh?

Solas: The man threatened with death may not see himself as particularly noble, but the child will always see him as their savior. Regardless of his motivations, he will always be a hero to the child he saved.

Surana: So no matter who or what made him do it, he is still a good person because another thinks him such?

Solas: I did not say that. 'Heroic' and 'good' are not necessarily the same.

.

Surana: So what is your point, then? That I should make people call me 'Hero' at Skyhold?

Solas: My point is that you should not feel guilty if they believe you to be someone you are not. You cannot control them, and attempts to the contrary will only serve to make you miserable.

Surana: Why do you care so much? Why does it matter to you how I feel about being called 'the Hero of Ferelden'?

Solas: It --doesn't. You are right, of course. And I meant no offense.

Surana: That's not-- I'm not offended, I'm curious. I want to know why it matters to you, a random wandering apostate, whether I call myself a hero or a bastard or a drunkard or nothing at all.

Solas: It is as I said: elven mages are rarely given the level of respect and admiration that you are. It is a shame you see no benefit in that.

Surana: Benefit? Like what, seeing my ears cut off in statues? My staff turned into a sword? My skin lightened in paintings and my relationships reduced to spectacle or seduction?

Surana: Maybe I am offended. I would love to be an anonymous apostate. I was, for a while, but I couldn't stop trying to live up to a version of me that doesn't exist, never has, and never will. The real hero is dead, and you have me instead.

Solas: You must let that be enough, Surana.

Surana: It isn't.

.

Surana: Solas, you have dreamt in all sorts of places, right?

Solas: Yes.

Surana: Have you ever --well, did you ever see the Battle of Denerim, in your dreams?

Solas: Not as you would remember it.

Surana: Of course not. But... I mean-- did you--

Solas: It is done, Surana. You cannot linger there.

Surana: How do I do that? How do I stop seeing it?

Solas: You do not. But instead of letting it weigh you down, let that pain be what pushes you forward. Focus on where you must be, and what you must do. You are needed here, now, exactly as you are, not as the person you were in Denerim. Whoever others think you are, you must go forward as who you know you are. If you lose sight of that, you are lost.

.

Surana: Solas, thank you.

Solas: For what?

Surana: You know full well what.

Solas: I try to help, when I can. The pain you carry is... familiar.

Surana: Familiar?

Solas: You feel guilt simply for being alive, as though self-flagellation will make you worthy of existence.

Surana: Self-flagellation? *dryly* You have a way with words, you know.

Solas: *just as dryly* You flatter me.

[If neither Solas nor Surana are romanced]

Surana: You deserve the flattery.

Solas: Is that a compliment, from the Hero of Ferelden herself?

Surana: I take it back. You're an ass and I hate you.

Solas: *chuckles*

.

[After Here Lies the Abyss]

Surana: I didn’t know you disliked the Wardens so much, Solas.

Solas: It was not worth mentioning.

Surana: Not until it became acceptable to criticize us, you mean.

Solas: What have the Wardens actually accomplished in terms of understanding the Blight? Do you honestly feel you understand it any better than you did before you became one?

Surana: Is that a serious question? Do I understand it better after witnessing its ravages than I did when I’d merely read about them in a book?

Solas: What did the Wardens teach you? What did you learn from them, about the Blight?

Surana: More than I will ever tell you.

Solas: *bitterly* Ah. Of course.

.

Surana: You have always been an apostate, have you not?

Solas: By your Chantry’s definition, I suppose.

Surana: My chantry? Am I the Divine now, too? *scoffs* Anyway, you have never spent time in a Circle.

Solas: No.

Surana: Then one thing I will tell you about the Wardens is this: there is no other path to freedom for many mages than to join them. You were not dragged from your home in chains because of what you are. You were not barred from dreaming, nor threatened with Tranquility when you failed to perform a difficult spell.

Solas: You should not have had to make that choice, Surana.

Surana: Yet I did, because it was the only one I had. And the Wardens are all the world has to counter the Blight. You can disagree from your tower in Skyhold or your hut in the woods or whatever, but we are working with what is available to us. Come up with a real solution and I will listen. But I’m uninterested in ignorant complaints from someone who was not there.

.

Surana: It’s not my Chantry.

Solas: Poor wording, on my part.

Surana: I don’t even like the Chantry.

Solas: Abelas. I meant no offense.

Surana: Yes, you did. Or you just don't care.

Solas: What would you have me say, Warden?

Surana: Nothing. Just be quiet.

.

Solas: Where was home to you, Surana? Before the Circle?

Surana: *sighs* An orphanage in Denerim’s alienage.

Solas: Really? Huh. In that case, I would have expected you to sound more like Sera.

(Sera, if present: What? You think all city elves sound the same?

Solas: You are from the same section of the same city. Why would you not have the same accent?)

Surana: I don’t sound like Sera because I was beaten in the Circle until I spoke 'properly.’ No offense to Sera, of course.

(Sera, if present: More reasons to be glad I’m not like you two.)

.

Solas: I am sorry, Surana. Living in the Circle must have been difficult, and I imagine being a Warden during the Blight was no easier.

Surana: *sighs* It’s alright. You couldn’t have known.

Solas: I should have tried. I have done you a disservice, and I hope you can forgive me.

Surana: Maybe. Possibly. Did you bring any of that wine with you?

Solas: Unfortunately not.

Surana: *playfully* Then, no.

Surana: …But please, call me Eirwen.

Solas: Eirwen. Ma nuvenin.

.

[After Surana hears Cole and Solas banter for the first time]

Surana: Oh! I think I got that one, it's --oh, wait. No, that can't be it.

Cole: You were close, though.

Solas: Nearly had it.

.

[If Eirwen is romanced by an elven Inquisitor]

Solas: *playfully* For all your talk of wanting anonymity, Eirwen, you seem incapable of avoiding spectacle.

Surana: Is this about the drunken bear? I already apologized for that.

Solas: No. You and the Inquisitor. Two of the most powerful elves in Thedas, together?

Surana: Jealous?

Solas: Not for the reason you think.

Inquisitor: How could we resist?

Surana: We are both very pretty.

OR

Inquisitor: One day we will be free of all of this. Together.

Solas: For your sakes, I hope you are right.

.

[If Solas is romanced and Eirwen's personal quest is completed]

Solas: You no longer consider yourself a Grey Warden, Eirwen?

Surana: Did the Inquisitor tell you that?

Solas: Yes. You threw your badge into the Abyss.

Surana: Bit dramatic, I suppose. I was having a moment.

Solas: Evidently.

.

Surana: It almost felt traitorous, honestly.

Solas: Why? You were forced to join the Grey Wardens, were you not?

Surana: They still saved my life.

Solas: And condemned you to an early death. They bought you time, nothing more.

Surana: But time is all any of us have, isn't it?

Solas: No. You have a name, and experience, and the influence to pull the strings behind the world.

Surana: Careful. You'll make the Inquisitor jealous.

Solas: I am not attempting to flatter you. I am only telling you what you must already know: that you are more than a Warden, and always have been.

.

Surana: Where will the two of you go, once this is over?

Inquisitor: (Somewhere quiet) A place where we can be left alone.

OR (Somewhere fun) Someplace with good wine.

OR (Home) North. Where my people are.

Solas: An appealing prospect, vhenan.

Inquisitor: What about you, Eirwen?

Surana, based on the Inquisitor's answer to the previous question: (Somewhere quiet) Somewhere without so many damn demons.

OR (Somewhere fun) I was thinking Rivain. I've heard the food is excellent.

OR (Home) The Deep Roads. Where my people are.

.

[If neither Solas nor Eirwen are romanced]

Solas: Have you ever learned any elven, Eirwen?

Surana: Unfortunately not. A few words here and there, a long time ago. It wasn’t exactly taught in the Circle.

Solas: Would you like to?

Surana: I –oh. I hadn’t –um.

Solas: *chuckles* You do not have to learn.

Surana: No! I would love to. From you, I assume?

Solas: I cannot imagine you were going to learn it from Sera.

Sera, if present: I prefer real words, thanks.

.

Solas: What elven words do you recall, from your alienage?

Surana: Ah… okay. Hahren, that’s like… elder, or leader. The tree in the middle was called the vhenadahl. Lethallan is like friend, or ally, or maybe even sister?

Solas: Do you know what vhenadahl means?

Surana: It must be something about a tree.

Solas: And where is it, in the alienage?

Surana: A central place, somewhere everyone could see it.

Solas: And what is another word for the middle of something that lovers might call each other?

Surana: …Heart?

Solas: So what do you think 'vhena’ means, if 'dahl' is tree?

Surana: Uh... heart?

Solas: Yes. But also 'home.' The vhenadahl was both the home of your people, and the heart of the alienage.

Sera, if present: Just call it what it is --a big stupid tree.

.

Surana, in elven: *haltingly, mumbling* [Her early leaf’s a flower… but] –shoot.

Solas, in elven: [But only so…?]

Surana: M- it starts with an ’m’…

Solas: Take your time.

Surana: Meh- malath?

Solas: *laughs*

Surana: Is that wrong? Shit, that must be wrong.

Solas: Not wrong, per say, but perhaps premature.

Surana: What? What did I say?

Solas: Do not concern yourself with it, lethallan.

Surana: …was it dirty?

Solas: No.

Surana: …then what was it?

Solas: Patience, Eirwen.

.

Surana: I found out what ‘ma lath’ means.

Solas: I would expect nothing less from such a gifted student.

Surana: Mhm. It’s –well. I’m glad I said it, but you were right. It was premature.

Solas: I agree. Though...

Surana: Though?

Solas: *chuckles* I think this is neither the time nor place.

Surana: What is, then?

Solas: When I have you alone, Eirwen.

Surana: *laughs awkwardly* Maker's breath...

.

Sera + Surana

(If Solas has begun "teaching Eirwen elven")

Sera: So… you and Droopy ears.

Surana: Why do you call him that?

Sera: Cause he’s all –I don’t know, sad or wha'ever.

Sera: Anyway. Teaching you 'the ways of the elves,’ is he?

Surana: It’s just not a very good nickname, frankly.

Sera: Well I don’t want to know what you call him.

Surana: Certainly not droopy.

Solas, if present: *snorts*

Sera: *laughs* Ew! Keep it to yourselves, then!

.

Solas: Eirwen, I–

Solas: I am sorry we had to cut our lessons short.

Surana: It’s… I understand. We… no, you were right.

Solas: Please, Eirwen.

Surana: Perhaps, in another life, another time, we could have–

Solas: You are a bright light in a dark world. You will always be important to me, for whatever that is worth.

.

Surana: Can I ask you a question, Solas?

Solas: Of course.

Surana: It's not about me, is it?

Solas: I--

Surana: It's about trying to fight the tide.

Solas: Eirwen...

Solas: I am so, so sorry.

Surana: Telanadas, hahren.

Solas: Ma nuvenin, vhenan.

[writteninkat]

iii - new blueberry tart

word count: 2,212

"say you love her, baby, but not like you loved me"

index

The quirk apprehension test was helpful- it gave you insights on your classmates' different quirks, their strengths and weaknesses. When Aizawa used Bakugou as an example, your jaw almost hanged at how far he could throw the ball; over seven hundred meters.

Bakugou looks at you, a smug smirk evident on his face. You couldn't help but grow irritated at the look he's sending you. As if he was inviting you to some competition.

"L/n. Since you look so upset that we're doing this apprehension test-" You look at your teacher with raised brows. You didn't mean to look upset at your teacher or the test, that look was supposed to be for Bakugou alone. "-You're up next. Get the ball up in the sky as high as you can."

You step into the square, "Should I have to just throw it? Or can I hit it with my quirk?" You ask and the teacher's eyes doesn't leave the device in his hands. "Do whatever and however you want just get the ball in the air as high as you can."

"Alright."

Light appears in your hand, catching your teacher's attention. His eyes widen as the same claymore you used in the exam appears in your hands. "So you're the claymore user the higher ups have been talking about. You scored pretty high in such a small amount of time." He says, eyes scanning over the blade of your sword.

"Yeah, I was just proving a point." You tell him, your response catching him off guard as you throw the ball up, using the blade of your sword as some kind of make-shift baseball bat, hitting it up in the sky. The action having created big circular dent on the ground as dust fly around the class.

You place your hand over your eyes, shielding them from the sun as you squinted, trying to look for the ball. You set your claymore on the ground, "How far did it go?" You ask.

"One thousand fifty eight meters." Aizawa answers, a proud smirk etched on his face. You sigh, letting go of your claymore as it disintegrates into small specks of light before completely vanishing.

You turn around and look at Bakugou who had the same proud expression on his face. You throw a thumbs down at him, expecting a snarl only to be hit back with a sinister smile, as if he'd been pumped up just now.

Someone's a good sport.

The test finishes with you in the first place, Bakugou hitting you in the arm jokingly as a 'job well done'. Before you could even feel butterflies in your stomach, you see Izuku walking back into the building.

"I'll talk to you later-" You quickly place a hand on his shoulder, running over to Izuku who's cradling his right arm. "-Izuku, wait up! I'll take you to the clinic."

As you walked away from him, you missed how the blond's look went from proud to sour within a second. Were you and Deku close? When and how?

As you began keeping your things and preparing to go back home, someone leans on the desk beside yours. You look up, raising and eyebrow at Bakugou who's looking away from you.

"Need something?" You ask, standing up and zipping your bag close. The blond clicks his tongue, looking at you with an annoyed expression. "That cafe is selling blueberry tarts today."

You smile, pressing your lips together to try and suppress your laughter, but fail. You begin laugh loudly, the blond looking at you with a weird expression on his face. "Bakugou, have you memorized their menu and schedule by heart or something?" You ask in between laughs, the blond getting angrier.

"Do you think I'd have time doing that sorta dumb shit?! I was just letting you know!" He yells, mini explosions going off in the palm of his hands. As your laughter slowly dies down, you notice him slowly walking away.

"Hey wait! I'm sorry!" You chuckle, quickly jogging to him. "I didn't mean to make fun I'm sorry!" You laugh, a wide smile on your face as you place a hand on his shoulder.

He clicks his tongue once more, looking away as he continues walking out the classroom. "Does their blueberry taste better than their strawberry?" You ask, placing both your hands behind you.

"How would I know?! It's not like I go there everyday!" You just smile in amusement at him, mind recalling back to times when you were this happy with someone other than your mom. Nothing comes to mind. The whole walk back to the cafe was silent as you rack your brain, furrowing your brows. There were no memories you could remember.

You snap out of your trance when you notice that you were walking alone now. You look to your side, and then to your other side but see no Bakugou. You turn around and see that he's standing a few feet away from you. You jog over to him, a worry evident on your face.

"What happened? Why'd you stop walking?" You ask.

"What happened to you?Why'd you stop talking?" He shoots back at you. Despite his furrowed brows, the mean glare and the scowl on his lips, his eyes held another expression. They looked so soft and curious.

"Ah- I was just wondering when was the last time I was this happy, walking with someone apart from my mother." You place a hand on your nape, looking away.

"Well? When was it?" He asks, causing you to look back at him with a questioning look. "When was what?" You ask back, deeply confused.

"When was the last time you were this happy? Other than your mom?" His question caused your smile to fall. You couldn't understand why you felt so bad knowing the fact that you don't have any memories of these kinds of simple things. You never even experienced them.

Your eyes widen at your realization. You look up at Bakugou, your wide eyes causing him to raise his brows, still waiting for your answer. "Well?" He asks.

"I... I couldn't think of anything." You smile sadly at him and his annoyed expression drops into something else- was it sadness? Pity? "I never experienced anything like this, I think." You look down at you shoes, feeling your eyes well up at the thought. All your life, you've been homeschooled. After being bullied harshly during middle school, your mother pulled you out of your private school out of pity. She didn't want her kid experiencing that type of bullshit treatment.

You then notice dark circles on the concrete ground. You blink a few times and notice that you've already been crying. You were about to look up, ready to deny it but stop when you see a pair of shoes come into view. You look up, feeling your wet tears stream down your face as you look at Bakugou from up close.

He smells good. Like a sweet, burnt caramel smell. He reminds you of the candy factory your mother's friend brought you to when you were six. It smelled so good, so warm, it smelled like when your mother was making your favorite from her recipes; her caramel cupcakes.

Bakugou smelled so much like home.

You feel something soft touch your cheek, looking down to see a black handkerchief with orange accents. "Stop crying, dumbass." His voice sounded so rough and soft at the same time, you felt utterly confused by yourself.

"Why? Cause I look ugly when I cry?" You joke, a soft smile stretching across your face. Bakugou's eyebrows furrow, "No, cause if the cashier sees your eyes all red and puffy like that she'll get worried I made you cry."

You raise a brow, taking the hanky from him. You dry your cheeks on your own, turning around to continue walking towards the cafe. You were so close that can already see the sign.

"You seem like you've befriended the people from the cafe." You look at him through a side glance, admiring how fierce yet soft he looked. His eyes always had this sharp and intimidating look in them but as you traveled your eyes down his cheeks, you could notice that there were some baby fat left in them.

"No I didn't. They befriended me." He tries his best to deny them it makes you chuckles. "So you admit you are friends with them?"

"You know what? I don't have to listen to your crap." He throws his hands up in the air in surrender as he turns around and begins walking away from the cafe. You laugh, pulling him back. "Come on! There seemes to be only three tarts left!"

You go home with a satisfied belly full of sweets, a slice of take out carrot cake in hand courtesy of Bakugou and his phone number written on a napkin pushed inside your pocket. He gave it to you sa you could 'call him if you are crying like an idiot again' but you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach. He still gave you his phone number, so you still win today.

As you place your slice of cake in the fridge, you take out your phone and send Bakugou a quick text.

you: i'm not crying but i thought you'd want me to text you so you could have my number too

rubies: got home alright?

You bite onto your lip, smiling like an idiot. Him asking about your well-being after you tell him you got home is the lowest of the low, but still.

you: yeah, i did.

you: i'm doing my english homework in a few. need my help with it?

rubies: i should be asking you that, idiot

you: i'll take that as a yes

you: i'll call you after i wash up

rubies: whatever

You quickly scroll through your spotify, choosing your playlists before heading to your bathroom. After a long day, you definitely needed a warm, relaxing bath. You turn your water on, letting the warm feeling run down your body, relaxing your tense muscles as you run your hand through your wet hair.

By the time you finish, your phone starts ringing. Your heart drops- you weren't answering Bakugou's face time while you were still in your towel. That would be inappropriate-

You read the screen; Mom.

I'm an idiot.

You answer the call, smiling widely. "Hey mom! How's the house over there?" You ask, walking back to your room and towards your closet. "It's pretty quiet without your songs playing in the background. I miss you my baby." She coos and you feel your heart melt in your chest. "I miss you too, mommah. Tell me about your day."

As she rambles on about how tiring her day was, you put on your pajamas and quickly apply your skincare, nodding and laughing as your mom continued on about her day.

By the time you finish, your mom was still talking and it was already around eight PM. "But yeah that was pretty much how my day went. How was yours? Was the first day good? Were the kids nice?" Before you could answer, a notification banner pops up from above your screen. You read is, feeling your heart drop in excitement.

Rubie is calling you on facetime...

"Hey ma, I'll tell you about my day on another time okay? I have homework to do." You say, quickly getting off the bed and walking to your desk. "Okay? You can do your homework I'll help you out-"

"It's cool, Bakugou's calling anyway. Bye! Love you!"

"Bakugou? Who's Baku-"

You end your call quickly, answering your classmate's facetime call. You lean your phone on the wall as you take in how he looks right now- hoodie pulled up his head and a headband pulling his hair back as he writes on his notebook. He looks at his camera, eyebrows furrowing. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, my mom was calling." You pull out your notebook from your bag and the two of you begin your homeworks, helping each other. Well, it was more like Bakugou helping you out, but you'd rather say you helped each ofher out.

You finished your homework pretty quickly and after doing so, the two of you begin talking. First your topic was about stars and galaxies, opened by you, and then it went to alternative universes, and then what would happen after death, and then this funny story about Bakugou's aunt- the two of you talked about everything and anything. Whenever you talked with the blond, it felt likr you would never run out of topics to talk about.

When the clock's long hand struck to twelve and its short hand on one, you were already asleep, phone leaning on your lamp horizontally as you slept with the camera on.

Bakugou smirks at your sleeping face, you look so soft and peaceful. "Hey, idiot. I know you're awake." He says, knowing fully well that you were asleep already. He just wanted to make sure.

"You know, you look cute when you're asleep." He says, snapping a few pictures of you, "And maybe when you're awake..." He mutters the last part before ending the call.

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 6 (Bucky Barnes au)

"Hold, hold on, hold onto me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady"

Word count : 2061

Sleep didn't seem to come to you that night, and you didn't know whether the reason was the pizza you'd had for dinner, your husband's obvious neglect or your supposed soulmate sleeping in the same building. After tossing and turning in your bed for over three hours, you grabbed a pillow and a plaid, put on your slippers and went into the main kitchen. A herbal tea under the stars should  be a good way to help you sleep, right? You tried to stay as silent as you  could despite the boiling water in the kettle – you always refused to microwave water – and picked some chamomile infusion Wanda had chosen. With your cup in one  hand, you opened the picture window. One thing you liked about the compound was the few balconies it had : they weren't too big, but they were large enough for you to sit on a pillow and look at the stars, your back against the wall. You were once again trying to spot constellations,  the August sky being perfect for this kind of exercise.

"Can't sleep?"

You almost spilled your tea on your plaid.

"Sorry I scared you."

You smiled weakly at the man who'd just joined you. "It's fine. Wanna sit here with a fellow insomniac?"

Bucky ran a hand through his hair before sitting on your left. His right arm brushed against your exposed skin and you tried to hide your shivers.

"What's keeping you up?" You ask. "I mean,  you obviously don't have to tell me."

"Nothing much. Some nightmares."

"Are they ones about...about the war?"  Your question startled him ; he shot you a  confused look as you lowered yours. "Sorry. Steve told me a few times about his best friend Bucky and I... I made the connection."

"I thought Steve avoided talking about those things."

"What? The way he lost you?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry, that was tactless."

"Don't worry about that." He looked at the sky, leaning his head against the wall. "Wanna tell me what's keeping you up?"

"Well, it's quite ridiculous really," you eluded.

"Steve told me why you're spending time here. Is it him that keeps you up at night?"

You sipped on your tea for a few seconds. "I guess so. It's just that I keep thinking about what I'm doing wrong, you know? I must be doing something wrong."

You heard him take a breath, his shoulders raising with his chest. His arm against yours felt strange, in a good kind of way. You'd never felt so close to anyone in such a short amount  of time, and you wondered what made him so special aside from the meaningful tattoo you shared.

"I don't think you're to blame. Can I be honest?"

"Sure."

"I'm sorry if I seem out of place, because we only met a week ago but..."

"You feel like I get you, right? Just  like I feel that you get me."

He nodded calmly. "He doesn't seem to realise who he was lucky enough to marry."

"Lucky, huh?"

You looked at him with a smile and had it not been so dark, you could've sworn a red tint had reached his cheeks. "You're hella smart," he explained. "And from what I've seen, you're kind."

"And you think that after two days with me?"

He shrugged and allowed himself a quiet laugh. "You let Sam get the last piece of pizza earlier. I would have never done that."

"True. That is my most selfless act ever." Jumping on his joke felt natural and as it turned out, he had a communicative laugh.

"Why  don't you laugh more often? I like it."

Bucky looked you  in the eyes, paralysing you with his blue pupils again. It seemed as if he was searching for what to say.

"There aren't a lot of things that make me laugh. You do, though."  This one didn't sound like a joke, and you placed your hand on his forearm, instantly sending a funny feeling down to your stomach.

"Consider me flattered," you said. "Can I ask you a question? Don't feel like you're forced to answer, though."

"Sure."

"I'm just curious, working in biochem and stuff... I'm basically the school nurse for theses guys," you explained. "So how does it feel, the metal arm? Do you...feel things the way you do with your right arm?"

He stopped for a moment. "I did not expect that question. That's a good surprise." He raised his left hand in front of him. "It's weird, actually. This one is really advanced. Shuri did an amazing job with it, but... sometimes I'll touch something and think I feel something. I know it's my brain playing tricks on me, but it's not that sentient. I feel pressure, tension...but not actual human sensations." He let his hand fall down on his knees.

"Do you miss it?"

"I got used to it. But yeah."

"Okay, close your eyes."

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Y/n, we met last week."

"I know! But like, it's not a 'do you trust me with your life' situation. Think of it as 'do you trust me with basic skills' kind of thing." You chuckled. "Now close your eyes."

Bucky gave in and you gently grabbed his metal hand. "What do you feel now?" you asked,  stroking the back of his hand.

"I know there's something on my hand. And I know it's harmless. But...nothing more, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's part of you."

"And you don't mind that?"

"Why would I?" you shrugged. "It's you."

"Even if I were to do this?" He slowly raised his hand, approaching your face. You let him place his hand on your cheek. It didn't feel like flesh and bone, but it still felt right.

"Yes, even then." You held up his gaze, searching those blue eyes for any sign. Signs of what exactly, you didn't know yet. All you wanted was to stare into them forever, never leave this state of mind.

When Bucky's hand fell down your shoulder and kept running down your arm,  a thousand shivers ran down your spine. You couldn't – shouldn't – feel this way. You were married now, and doing this... To prevent  you from doing anything stupid, you looked away and leaned back against the wall. Getting away from him still was out of your league, though ; you settled for resting your head on his shoulder and spread your plaid over both your bodies. It might've been because nights were fresh, even in August, but it was mostly to make sure you were as close to him as you could be. Before falling asleep, the last thing you felt was Bucky's head letting itself fall on top of yours.

---

"Hey, you need to wake up."

The morning sun made you blink and you felt something on your thigh. Lowering your gaze, you noticed Bucky's hand. You tried not to freak out and looked up at whoever had spoken : Steve. Bucky shifted next to you, woken up by Steve's words  as well.

"What's going on?" you asked. Steve might have been the best at hiding concern, he couldn't always hide it from you.

He sighed. "Darren's here."

"Shit." You got up more abruptly than you should've, causing you to lean on Steve's shoulder for a second. "Where is he?"

"Right here."

You turned around, seeing Darren standing in the doorframe. Well, that was unfortunate. You thought you should've been feeling some sort of guilt after being found in another man's arms – technically ; all you felt was anger. You were angry that he'd showed up after standing you  up last night, you were angry about the neglect and his overall lack of care.

"What are you doing here?" you asked sharply.

"Bringing you home. Why didn't you come back?" His arms were crossed over his chest and he shot Bucky a furious look. "And why were you sleeping outside with this guy?"

Rubbing your forehead, you gestured towards Steve and Bucky.  "Could you guys leave us a minute, please?"

Even though Steve nodded and walked back inside, Bucky seemed unsure about  leaving you alone with your husband. You gave him a brief smile and he took the hint.  As you closed the door behind him to have some privacy – the door was made of glass, but oh well –, Darren started pacing.

"Did you cheat on me last night?"

"What the hell?" You  couldn't believe your ears. "You're kidding, right? You stood. Me. Up. You didn't even bother telling me in advance that you'd go at Brad's, and you didn't even come home. Didn't you think I was tired of being alone every night?"

"You're never alone."

"Damn it, Darren,  you came home past dinner every day since we got married! We should be on our honeymoon right now, and yet you don't even bother kissing me goodnight."

"That's all this is about? I work a little too much and you go away to your so-called family?" He'd stopped pacing and raised an eyebrow, proud of his innuendo. His insinuating Steve and the gang weren't your family made your blood boil.

"So-called? So-called, Darren? I love these people. They are my family and they've been more present for me today than you have in a week. What did you expect? That I would happily ask to be invited at Brad's, when I clearly am not welcome there?"

"You are welcome, what the hell are you talking about?"

"They don't like me, and you know that very well." You looked at the ground. You might've been angry, but never being able to fit in within Darren's social circle had always hurt you.

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough."

No words came out of your mouth. How could you say anything to that? This was the ultimate insult. You had given so much to this relationship that you'd never even thought that 'not trying hard enough' could've been  the reason they  disliked you. First dinner with them, Brad's wife had made fun of what was left of your Sokovian accent, asking Darren if he wanted you to help you get a green card. Of course you'd called her out on her racism. She got upset, but was it your fault? No. During a night out, Brad had been too handsy with you and when telling Darren about it, he'd told you that you were reading too into it, that he was just being friendly. They weren't good people, and you'd always wondered why Darren bothered hanging out with them.

"That's it, go away." You let out an exasperated sigh, opening the door. "You're going to leave the compound to go home and calm down. Maybe I'll be back in a few days."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." That could've sounded romantic. In his mouth, it sounded more like a threat.

"Hell yeah, you are. Now go. My birthday is in three days, and I don't want you to be like this then."

"Right, your birthday. Don't count on me to celebrate it if you don't bother coming home."

You closed your eyes for a moment before gesturing him to leave. He ultimately walked through the glass door and you saw him make eye-contact with Wanda on his way out. You knew she was trying hard not to throw him against a wall or something. You ran your hand through your hair, taking in what had just occurred. You knew Darren would feel better the next day and that it would be like nothing ever happened. You just weren't sure anymore whether it was a good thing or not.

"Don't worry, you can stay here longer," you heard Steve say.

"You're better off with us anyway," Wanda told you.

"You know he's-"

"Please, don't defend him," your sister pleaded. "He's not treating you right and you know it. He hasn't for years. Why are you-"

"Wanda, please. Not here."

You looked at Bucky out of the corner of your eye ; you didn't want to have that conversation in front of him, for some reason. Maybe deep down, you knew he'd side with Wanda. Having your sister call you out was hard enough ; you didn't need your soulmate to start doing it as well.

--- I just finished part 9 so I'm posting part 6 because I can't wait to have your opinion on this one!! Don't forget you can message me anytime to be added to the tag list :)

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02

[the-darklings]

╱ eventually home.

pairing: jean & clara

verse: npfh (ase au)

word count: 1.4k+

prompt: "If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed."

notes: the irony of the first time most of you get a look at jeara in written form being set in au setting is hilarious. I hope anyone reading this enjoys it.

“What are you thinking?”

Kicking off her heels, Clara sighs. Her toes curl against the cool wood flooring, their Vienna townhouse utterly silent at an hour this late.

They’ve spent hours rubbing elbows with the elite and socialites of the city. In particular, their interest had honed in one politician who rose to power rather quickly. Too quickly. Upon further digging, it became clear quickly that he did so through malice, lies, and knavery. Not unlike the man who has inquired after her current mindset, but certainly lacking the grace Jean employs when handling such affairs.

“Don’t you usually analyse me and call it a day?” she shoots over her shoulder, a brief saccharine smile gracing her face.

“You were quiet tonight,” the rumble of his baritone echoes through the empty house, only a handful of steps behind her and, as always, Clara feels him intimately. Feels him everywhere. His eyes at the back of her head, his words kissing her skin, his shadow trailing after hers. “Don’t think it escaped my notice, vipère.”

Things rarely do. Never when it comes to her.

“So you’ve upgraded from an arrogant nuisance in my life, to an arrogant busybody in my life?” she calls out, padding towards the kitchen. Behind her, his near-silent footsteps stalk after her.

Now that they’re away from prying eyes of high society, from the Syndicate spies around every corner, she can let herself feel indolent. She can be Clara, not the Viper. Her mask was left by the door, and Clara lets herself breathe, feeling the constriction of her black dress around her chest and waist. He helped her pick it out. Helped her put it on too. But not before dragging it down her body first, not before his fingers had sunk into her hair and her mouth had bruised from his kisses.

Certainly not before he fucked her. Her body ensconced in his strong arms and her fingers tight in his dark hair. Jean’s mouth had crawled across her throat, body, a sultry gleam in his eyes when she grumbled how they’re going to be late.

In her defence, Clara was right. They were late. Fashionably late, Jean later insisted. Something about making people anticipate their arrival. Dread the presence of Augustin De La Cours generals around them. Jean found it amusing. That unease. Thanks to him and Augustin, her appetite for such displays has doubled over the years as well.

Grabbing a wine glass from the cabinet, Clara senses him close in. The broadness of his frame, the heat of his skin, the cologne she’s gifted to him years ago rich in the air between them. Jean’s breath fans over her bare neck and she shivers. Inhales when he braces his hands on either side of her, trapping her between the marble counter and his body. The glass clinks on the surface, echoing sharply.

If she pushes back, Clara knows he would move back. But she doesn’t want him to move back. She never does when it’s him, and maybe that’s the problem. With him, she just wants to burn. A need and closeness that chokes her daily, robs her of reason, and yet makes her brim with life.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Pivoting on her heels, Clara meets the piercing blue, stares at those handsome rough-hewn features.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation,” she points out with a small, blasé grin. She peers up at him from under her lashes, letting the flutter of her fingertips trail up his broad chest. Towards the patch of skin bared by three undone buttons of his dress shirt. “Here I thought other things would be on your mind.”

Jean’s fingers fold around her own, swallowing them in his grip. His heavy, searching stare maps her face, notes every twitch of her eyes and nose. Lips. He lingers on her mouth the longest, and Clara can feel the phantom sensation of his fingers on them. Parting them, stroking them, nibbling on them with his teeth. Her name is always an unholy orison on his tongue. He has a curious gift for making her name sound both beautiful and filthy all at once. In particular when he moans it.

“These tricks don’t work on me, chérie,” he informs her, his articulation more breathy and accent heavier despite his nonchalant words. Jean’s lips trail over her knuckles, her inner wrist. Slow, balmy breaths tingle up her senses. His stubble tickles the sensitive skin there, and Clara almost arches into the sensation, into him. Always the game of who will give in first. “Don’t forget who taught them to you.”

An ember of annoyance scintillates in her chest. No doubt reflected in her quick glare. “Prick.”

Angling closer, Jean lets his thumb flutter over her pulse, jawline, his nose nudging against hers when he shoots back a sly, low, “Snake.”

The sensation of his hot breath skitters through her entire body but before their mouths can touch, he pulls back.

“Answer the question,” he urges, his features set. Blue flame has melted the usual ice of his regard and she finds nothing but stifling focus peering back at her. “What are you thinking?”

She’s unsure what’s changed. Why is he pushing now but not before? Since when does he care?

“I’m thinking…” she trails off. It’s hard to bare herself open when it comes to this. If only because she knows how much Jean enjoys what he does, revels in how good he is at lies and manipulations. How good she’s become with his guidance. Sighing, she tugs on his collar, glancing up at him, “I’m thinking that I love this but I miss home.”

His eyes flicker. In the dim lights of the room, she can’t read his schooled expression.

“I think that I miss my greenhouse,” she continues, standing on her tiptoes to trail her lips over his jaw, her fingers sneaking up the powerful tendons of his neck and into his midnight hair. “I’m thinking that I miss the library and sitting by the fire every night. I love this, but I miss it when it was just us three, or four. If Ramona joined us. I’m thinking how much I miss her and Augustin. I savour every morsel of danger and thrill of our life. But I miss everything I know you would all warn me I shouldn’t.”

She kisses his mouth then; soft, slithering towards ravenous and hard with each slant of his warm lips on hers. Jean’s arm slides around her waist, pulling her flush against him. An eager journey of his hand follows, tugging at the pins holding her hair.

A frustrated sound rumbles inside his chest when they fail to give way, and Clara pulls back, grinning up at him widely with a laugh.

“And you say I’m impatient,” she tuts.

“I can have this job wrapped up tomorrow,” he says instead, her smile falling away with a blink of startled surprise. “Then we can go back.”

He doesn’t say home. But she glimpses it across his features, at the way his jaw clenches, and her throat closes up, the air in her lungs growing scarce.

“Is that what you’re thinking?” she wonders softly.

Jean’s arm tightens around her, holding her up while she idly plays with the hair at the back of his head. Silky and strong to the touch.

“I’m thinking,” he exhales hotly, his teeth gleaming followed by a quick kiss against the corner of her parted mouth. “That I want this back.”

His thumb traces over her bottom lip, past it. The shape of a smile she just wore. His eyes sear against her face and Clara can’t quite help her small smile.

Happy.

He makes her so stupidly, idiotically happy. Despite the bickering and the tension, despite every harsh word, every unpleasant lesson learned over the years.

“Anything else?”

He nudges her back against the counter, and Clara senses the wolfish grin his mouth shapes against hers when he leans down to devour her. “Oui, amante,” he breathes. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

“Never stopped us before,” she points out smugly, scratching her nails down the curve of his neck.

Feline smugness greets those words. A low laugh—one that settles right at the bottom of her belly, pooling desire there—and then Jean is steering her towards the bedrooms, his fingers back in her hair. “Certainly not.”

an: this was written as part of coa server one-year birthday event. more will come eventually when i'm feeling a little more alive creatively. hope you enjoyed & thank you so so much for reading it! their story is uh,,,, gonna be something, I can promise you that much. this is more so just a little flavouring because of an au setting. ASE stands against the serrated edge and is a longer story i'm working on for them (currently close to 40k) it's taking me a while to write but it's honestly my best work to date, and a story I hope to get and share with you all one day. same with the rest of the npfh universe. thank you again for your support!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE MY UBER DRIVER

Marcus Alvarez x Reader

Anon asked: Hey, could you do an imagine with Alvarez where the reader is a very close friend of Chucky and once she brought peach pie to the club and he's there for a meeting with Bishop, and she ask him if he wants some and she's overall really kind with him and his boys that he's surprised to see someone so nice to them even if it's the first time they met?

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford ✨

Word Count: 2.5k

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Chuckie and you have been friends since four months ago, when you move from San Diego to Santo Padre. There was no reason to do it, you just feel tired of being you whole life living at your hometown, and you were looking for a change of scenery. You opened a bakery store in the center of the small city and he was your first customer. You thought he was a somewhat weird, until you met him a little more. Chuckie was kind and pretty gentle, so that made easy to turn you two from strangers into good friends. So, when he asked you to go to his birthday party, you didn't surprise. He also wanted to introduce you to his friends, even if you already met one called Happy, who was strangely kind when he tasted your pancakes. The biker with rough look told you they reminded him of what his mother used to prepare for him. At that point, you really stopped judging people by their looks.

Chuckie didn't ask you for a birthday cake, but you thought it would be a good gift cook his favourite one. Peach and cream. 

Parking at the entrance of the car scrapping, you hold the big cardboard box between your arms with a extreme care as if it was a bomb, following the rows made by scrap and the latin music sounding somewhere. You reach a crowded yard with a blue house in the middle of it and a lot of motorbikes around. You have already heard about the Mayans, but it's the first time you're there feeling somewhat small and lost.

“Yo! Man, who's that piece of art?” Angel says, among Coco and Gilly on the porch, watching you looking for Chukie.

“I don' know, let's see, hermano”. Gilly smirks at him, hitting his chest with a soft gesture.

“Can we help you, mami?” With a strong mexican accent, a skinny and tall man comes closer to you, pulling away the long strands of hair from the roots to the back of his head.

“Yeah… Ahm… Chukie?” You reply in a shy mood consuming you. “I'm (Y/N)”.

“He's insi—”.

“Hey, love!” A familiar voice interrupts him behind you.

“Happy! You're here too!” The man places an arm on your shoulders, taking the toothpick from his mouth to leave a kiss on your left cheek.

“Cake, uh?”

“Yeah. It's a present for Chukie”.

“You know her, brotha'?” Gilly asks then, a little bit curious.

“She has a bakery store here. Chuckie's friend, and also mine. Don' mess with her”. Happy's scratchy voice doing that warning makes you feel somewhat safe, even if they don't look as bad as you heard. “Come with me, love”.

Raising your chin like a farewell, for the moment, you let the man guides your steps inside the clubhouse where the music is a little low than outside. The men there are older than the other, sharing beers and laughs surrounded by a lot of girls. Girls that, by the way they have to caress and treat every one, you know what they are. But you don't even care.

“(Y/N)! You came!” Chuckie's excited voice claim for your attention, walking somewhat faster towards him when Happy lets you go, leaving the cake on the wooden bar so you can hug him tightly.

“Happy birthday!” You say before giving him a kiss, pointing after that the cake.

“Smells like peach! I accept that!” He looks like a five years old super excited, holding your hand to accompany you to a large room with a huge table in the middle of.

The men inside looks at you with curiosity, getting up from their chairs.

“That's my good friend, (Y/N)”.

“Nice to meet you, kid. I'm Tranq”. A big and tall one comes closer, narrowing your hand as you show him your best and dearly smile.

“Che Romero to serve you, but you can call me ‘Taza’”. Another man, the oldest one but with a kind smirk on his face does the same gesture.

“Bishop Losa, querida. A pleasure to meet you finally. Chukie talks a lot about you”. El Presidente hold your right hand gentle, leaving a paternal caress on the back of it.

“Yeah, they talk about you all too. I'm sorry it took me so long to finally come”. 

“We know about your bakery store, and that box you brought… smells pretty good from here, sweetheart”. Tranq says supporting his forearms on the top of a chair, making you chuckle.

“Is it yours?” An unknown man, with mexican accent and a light whistle pronouncing every ‘s’, appears at your back.

“Yes, sir”. You nod turning above your sneakers, feeling a soft jump shaking your heart when you focus your gaze on him.

“Marcus Álvarez”. He raises a hand on air, taking you some seconds to react, narrowing it when you start to feel stupid.

“(Y/N). Nice to meet you”. You just say.

“C'mon! I want to introduce you to my north Cali friends!” Chuckie sound so excited that makes you laugh, saying goodbye with a hand to the men smiling at you somewhat warm. 

You can't help but being so obliging with everything. Helping the prospect to take more beer from the warehouse, helping with the barbecue and the music. You just want to contribute at Chuckie's party because he's your friend and you want to make him feel the most special man on earth, at a day like this. You're having a lot of fun going from a side to the other, sneaking with other Mayans, mostly with Angel who looks so interested in dancing with you, in the way to help someone else. They're like a big family around California and some nearby states. And you felt like part of it since you put a foot there.

“Hey, kid, have a rest!”

Tranq has a hand raised, making a gesture to come closer. Leaving the box of Jose Cuervo over the bar, you nod walking towards the men you met at the main room a couple hours ago. Taza makes you some space by his side at the sofa, falling down there actually feeling somewhat tired. Bishop opens a beer for you, offering it before sitting in front of the sofa.

“Are you having fun?” He asks.

“Yes! I've never been in a… party like that. I like it. Reminds me to my family”.

“All drunk and a little high?” Tranq laughs, exactly like you do.

“Yeah, more or less. I'm from San Diego, but my family are from Guadalajara”.

“So you're used to this kind of celebration, but without the bikers part”. Taza jokes a little, making you nod again.

“What about Chuckie and you? Just friends?” Seems like Bishop wanted to ask that a while ago.

“Just friends. He was my first customer. He's cool and smart. And knows a lot of things. But, just friends”. You say then, understanding that they want to endorse their friend.

“Chuckie is a good man. Somewhat weird. But he's loyal”. Tranq ads then, drinking from his beer with pursed lips.

“I assume you're single”. Bishop says leaning forwards somewhat above the table. 

You laugh a little bit nervous and ashamed, covering your mouth slightly with a hand.

“I'm just asking to protect your ass from my dogs”. He assure infecting his laughter to the others, knowing well that he's referring to the first men you met before finding Happy. But you also know there's something else hiding behind that question.

You're not stupid. You have seen sideways Marcus looking at you at four times. And even if you didn't asked him about his gazes, looks like he wants to talk with you and doesn't know how to do it without scare you. Guns, long rides, a lot of risks… Sounds like it's not easy to live with. And, because of their behavior, family is the most important thing for them. Put something like that into a danger it's not an option. But even if it's just your thoughts not being sure if he's interested, you could try. You hear him talking with other women there in a gentle way, taking care about them as only a good man, and also a good father, could do. The work he does, doesn't determine how he is. And you like it. You like him since you heard his voice, feeling that good energy around as soon as he was close to you.

The night passed by, between more beers, tequila shots and pieces of the cake you made. It's been a long time since you had some fun. Everyone is delighted with it and you're more happy than other days because of the alcohol. And because of that, you decide to take a first step, knowing that you probably are going to regret it. So getting up, and pretending you're okay, your steps follow Marcus direction to the room they called Templo. 

“Hey!” You say, sounding more excited than you should. “Did you taste the cake?”

The mexican turns at you, surprised at first because he didn't expect you. Smiling at you, he just simply nods wearing the black leather kutte after clean it with a wet rag, looking shiny than a while ago.

“Good!” You reply feeling truly stupid, not knowing what you can say to continue the talk. But he's staring at you like if he was waiting for something else. Like you leaving, for example. “Well, I just… I'm goin' home and I was asking myself if you liked it, 'cause you don' look seem very talkative”.

“It was a long day”. He says walking closer to your position. “You're not going to drive, aren't you?”

“No, ahm… Chuckie told me I could leave my car here, so I'm gonna call an Uber”. You shake your head, making a gesture with your left hand to take away its importance. 

“Where do you live, ah?”

“Second avenue, next to the post office. It's ten minutes walking, but Angel make me dance too much”.

That's the point. That's the hook ready to fish, and you don't know how the hell you have thrown it in such an amazing move. Marcus doesn't say anything about it, erasing the relaxed gesture from his face.

“It was a pleasure…” Focusing on the vest, you read one of the patches. “Padrino. I hope you enjoy the party”.

He nods in silence before seeing you turn over your steps to walk outside of the room. You say goodbye faster than you would like, promising that you will come back soon, looking for Chukie after that. He's with Happy next to the Mayans bikes sharing some drinks and old memories.

“Hey, guys!” With both hands into the pockets of the jacket, you smile at them. 

“Are you leaving, love?” The taller one asks, giving you back two kisses.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired and I should work tomorrow”. You say before hugging Chukie tightly. “Thanks for inviting me, it was pretty fun”.

“I'll visit you tomorrow anyway!” He says blissful as always.

“Cool! Good night, guys”.

“Rest, love”.

At least you can walk straight through the hallway of the scrapping, right to the street. Rubbing your face with both hands, you feel like an idiot about the idea of Marcus having some interest, hoping he thinks you drunk too much. By the way, the fresh and cold air of the dawn helps you a little, crossing your arms before reach your car. You look at it, ready to drive it, but doesn't look like a good idea. So you finally leave it there, continuing with slow steps to the outside of the place, until the roar of an engine calls your attention. Turning aside, you find him stopping at your position.

“C'mon, I will take you home”. The mexican is giving you a black helmet, turning off the bike.

“Oh, no, no. Don't worry”. You say with pursed lips, feeling the shame running through your body, pretending you're waiting for the Uber car with your phone in a hand.

“C'mon, chamaca”. He insists moving his arm again, knowing that he'll not take ‘no’ for an answer.

Biting your lower lip, you nod holding it to sit behind him. Wrapping his waist with both arms, you try to relax yourself on your way back home, noticing that he's driving slower than normal. But you're not going to complain about it, resting your chest on his back getting somewhat comfy until he reaches your avenue. Then, the nerves return again when you have to point the building where you live at. Marcus parks there, letting you get up first.

“Thank you”. You just say pretending that everything is okay, while you return him the helmet. 

“The cake was delicious”. 

Raising your gaze from the keys you were looking for, your eyes go straight to the darkest. Now, he is who wants to talk, although he doesn't sound insecure as you did. You smile like an idiot, playing with the key chain and the nose bridge slightly wrinkled.

“I don't know if you are into the date game, bu—”.

“Yeah, tell Angel I would like it”. You're teasing him for making you wait and making you feel stupid for some minutes. And by the way his steps towards you stop dead and the look on his, you know it worked.

“I will”. He just replies back, tightening the gloves around his wrists.

“Really?”

“Sure, chamaca”.

You laugh somewhat funny, taking another step closer.

“You should see the look on your face”.

“I don't know what are you talking about”. He gives you his back somewhat prideful, keeping the helmet you used into a bag hanging by a side of the motorbike.

“You were looking at me”. You finally say licking your lips, after clicking your tongue slightly.

“Looked like you were part of the fam'”. He answers automatically, sitting on the bike with both hands catching the handlebar.

“Was it bad?”

“No. I actually liked seeing you taking care of my boys, when no one asked you to do it”. Even if that sounded a little passive-aggressive at the end, doesn't stop you to come closer enough to face him.

“I would really like to have a date with you, if that it… was you were to ask”.

“What if it wasn't?” Now, Marcus is playing your same game, at least, you hope it.

“Me sentiré aún más pendeja”. (I'll feel more stupid). You chuckle rubbing your nose in a nervous gesture.

The man laughs because of your words, shaking his head for a while. Then, he nods.

“I want it. Maybe I asked mi primo if he could find out what was going on between you and Chuckie”.

“Just ‘maybe’?”

“I'll pick you up tomorrow night. At seven?”

You lean towards him, leaving a soft kiss on his right cheek as a way to accept it.

[hookedonapirate]

Trick or Treat

A/N: It feels so great to post again. I've been in a writing slump for several weeks now, so I wanted to write something short and sweet to get the writing juices flowing. Thank you @hollyethecurious for your ideas for the premise and @darkcolinodonorgasm for Killian’s costume!

Rated: Teen and up for mature language

“Well, that’s disturbing.” Emma grimaces at the zombie gnome with gnarly teeth, reaching out with dirt and blood covered hands like he's coming out of the ground to get them. Even though it's not real, the graphics are enough to give a kid nightmares.

 “That’s so cool, Mommy!”

 Well, any kid who’s not her seven-year-old son that is. Henry runs down the sidewalk, his oversized hat falling off his head. He’s a ball of energy most days, but tonight, he’s extra energetic, and he hasn’t even had any candy yet.

 “Kid, your hat!” She follows after him, picking up his hat from the winding walkway which is lined with jack-o'-lanterns on each side. But as she passes each one, she’s surprised when she realizes these aren’t just typical jack-o'-lanterns with a mouth, nose and eyes carved into them. No, these are intricately crafted jack-o'-lanterns. One is carved into a haunted house, one is a graveyard full of ghosts, another looks like a skull from afar, but up close, it appears to be carved into long stem mushrooms and grass. Her favorite is the pumpkin carving that mimics a scene from the Nightmare Before Christmas. 

 Like seriously, who has time to carve out all these pumpkins? And why weren’t the Jack-o'-lanterns on display as she had seen at the Night of 1,000 Jack-o'-lanterns at the Chicago Botanic Garden? Whoever carved these has some ridiculous artistic talent. They are also way too into Halloween, because their yard is all decked out. There are games set up on tables in the yard, skeletons and ghosts hanging from the trees and tombstone yard signs all over. 

 As she walks up the steps to the house, fake fog sweeps around her feet, the porch is covered in fake cobwebs with large spiders and the porch railing is lined with decorated jars, “potions”, skulls and other Halloween themed knickknacks. She laughs at the potion bottle labeled, “love potion.” When she reaches the door, which is wide open, a group of kids in cute costumes gathered around waiting for treats, she’s expecting the three looney witches from Hocus Pocus to emerge from the house. 

 When a man in a black top hat, tailcoat and a cane appears through the door with a bowl full of candy, she realizes how wrong she is. 

 Boy, is she wrong.

 Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. His skin looks ghostly white from the makeup on his face and he's wearing a brown curly mustache, but those vivid blue eyes are so very blue, even in the dark and under the hat he’s wearing. She’s afraid those eyes will set her on fire when he looks at her.

 “Trick or treat!” the children chorus. 

 Emma can’t take her eyes off the man as he excitedly hands out candy.

 “I love your costume, lassie,” he compliments a little girl who's wearing an Elsa costume.

 He has an accent? Holy hell.

 The little girl frowns, clearly not understanding what he meant by lassie. “I’m not a dog, I’m Elsa.”

 He chuckles, dropping a candy bar into her pumpkin bucket. “My apologies, Elsa. Please don’t blast me with ice.”

 “Thank you, mister,” she says cheerfully before scurrying down the steps to meet her parents at the end of the walkway. 

 “Trick or treat!”

 The man looks toward the small voice, seeing Henry approaching him. He grins big and wide, which makes him look much creepier than he already looks in his costume. Creepy, but sexy. “Well, hi there. Captain Hook, I presume?”

 Henry nods his head and opens his Halloween sack, using his plastic hook to hold one of the straps.

 “Very nice costume, lad. My favorite one so far.”

 “Thank you. I made it,” Emma boasts with a smile as she steps behind her son, placing the hat on his head. She’s not normally one to brag, but then again bragging doesn’t normally afford her the opportunity to talk to ridiculously handsome strangers.

 The man looks up, and when his eyes finally connect with hers, he completely steals her breath. She was wrong. His smoldering blue eyes don’t set her on fire, but they do make her melt.

 And his heavy stare makes her skin tingle.

 “You made this lovely costume?”

 She waves her hand nonchalantly. “It was easy. Just took a red, long-sleeved shirt, some ribbon and slapped some red felt and white feathers on a straw hat and voila.”

 “Very impressive, lass.” He glances at her shirt briefly before returning his eyes to hers. “Did you also make your costume?” he asks, his eyes dancing with mirth. He must have been referring to her red leather jacket and white t-shirt that reads, “This IS my Halloween costume.”

 Emma laughs. “No, I bought it on Amazon.” 

 “Wow, Mom, check this out! Full-size candy bars!” Henry shouts excitedly when the stranger deposits the candy bar into his sack.

 Emma tears her eyes from this man’s mesmerizing blue ones to see the full-size Snickers bar Henry’s holding out to show her. “Huh, people actually do give out full-size candy bars.” She looks up at the man. “I’m impressed. Let me guess, you also carved those pumpkins, too?” she asks, pointing to the pumpkins in his yard.

 He nods with a small smile. “I did. You’d be amazed by what I can do with these hands,” he says smugly.

 Emma wants to roll her eyes, but she can’t deny she very much wishes to find out exactly what he can do with those hands. Instead, she flashes a sarcastic smirk. “So who are you supposed to be, Jack the Ripper?” 

 He chuckles. “Not quite. I’m a gentleman from the Victorian Era. A devilishly handsome gentleman, may I add.”

 She cocks a brow, laughter bubbling in her throat. “If by a  devilishly handsome gentleman, you mean creepy.”

 He sets down the candy bowl and surprises her when he takes her hand in his and lowers his head, murmuring softly as he looks up at her. “The name’s Killian Jones. And it just so happens, I’m always a gentleman. Not just on Halloween.” His touch sears her skin, then he presses his lips to the back of her hand and it feels like electrical currents are surging through her. Her breath catches, and she’s worried he will notice. Judging by the smirk spreading across her skin, he definitely noticed.

 Emma turns her head, looking for her son, whom she spots in the yard playing games with the other kids, their parents supervising them. “I should get back to my son.”

 This man actually pouts as he releases her hand. And it’s freaking adorable. “I told you my name and yet you haven't told me yours?”

 She bites her bottom lip, contemplating whether she should or not. But then again, what’s the harm? It is a small town, so they’ll probably end up running into each other again at some point. “It’s Emma.”

 He grins, making her heart melt. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

 “Likewise.” 

 He scratches behind his ear, which makes him look less creepy and even more adorable. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you new in town?”

 “I’m from Chicago.”

 “Well, love, welcome to Storybrooke.”

  Oh. Now he’s calling her love? Can this man get any sexier? Jesus Christ. “Thank you.” She gives him a shy smile and turns to head down the steps.

 “Wait. Before you go, I have a treat for you, too.” 

 She spins around, arching her brow. “Oh, that’s okay. Henry will share some of his candy with me.”

 He chuckles and shakes his head. “This treat is not for kids.”

 Emma gulps. “What kind of treat did you have in mind?” Something salty? Her mind definitely did not go into the gutter there. Okay, it totally did. 

 He heads inside, then returns not a moment later with a caramel apple. 

 “A caramel apple?” She almost sounds disappointed. But she’s definitely not.

 “Aye, but not just any caramel apple. It’s an adult caramel apple. So make sure you don’t share this with your lad.”

 She eyes it suspiciously. “It’s not laced with love potion, is it?”

 He chuckles and leans closer, whispering in her ear. “No. But it is laced with cannabis-infused butter.”

 Emma smirks as she takes the caramel apple. “Wow, you really go all out on Halloween, don’t you?”

 He shrugs. “You should come back around Christmas.”

 “Oh God, you’re not one of those people who goes completely crazy with the Christmas lights and the decorations and Santa and his reindeer on the roof, are you?”

 He shrugs again, donning a smirk. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

 “Is that an invitation?” Because she's definitely not thinking about inviting him to get high and engage in hot, sweaty sex with her. Not at all.  

 “Perhaps. Do you and your son enjoy hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies in front of a cozy fireplace?”

 She eyes the caramel apple and then glances up at him. “Does Santa enjoy adult cookies with his milk?”

 His grin widens, making her heartbeat skyrocket out of her chest. “Aye, then it’s a date.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Not a date.” She doesn’t like the idea of waiting until Christmas to see him again, though.

 His face clouds with guilt. Sorry, love, I just didn't see a wedding ring on your finger so I assumed-”

 “I'm not married,” she clarifies, her cheeks flushing because of the fact that he was curious enough to check her hand for a ring. “Nor do I have a boyfriend. I'm single.” Very single. She's never been so glad to be single before.

 He sighs in relief, which gives her the courage to say what's on her mind and to thankfully change the subject.

 “You know, adult cookies aren’t just for Christmas...”

 He cocks his brow, and good Lord, she really needs him to stop doing that, because it’s doing things to her breathing and her heart. “No? What other special occasions are they for?”

 She shrugs. “Like a Saturday night, say next week when my parents are taking Henry for the weekend.”

 His eyes flash with something she can only describe as excitement. Or anticipation, maybe? “But still not a date, right?”

 She shakes her head. “Nope, just two adults enjoying their adult cookies.” 

 He laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring the apple cider.”

 “Sounds like a date,” she says accidentally when she had meant to say Sounds like a plan. But she doesn't even bother correcting herself as her cheeks warm with blush. She backs away and manages to rip her eyes from him to turn around and head down the steps. She finds Henry playing a game with the kids and takes his hand, telling him it’s getting late. He leaves with a groan but doesn't make a fuss. 

 As they leave the yard, Emma turns around, getting one last glimpse of the devilishly handsome Victorian gentleman. He winks and smiles at her, making her heart stutter, and she blushes and walks away as she leaves with her son.

  She had doubts when she moved to this small town to start over, but the warm feeling in her chest is telling her perhaps coming to Storybrooke wasn't a bad idea after all.

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading:

@kmomof4 @teamhook @ilovemesomekillianjones @onceuponaprincessworld @artistic-writer @nikkiemms @snowbellewells @donteattheappleshook @itsfabianadocarmo​ @searchingwardrobes​ @melly326​

[lauwrite1225]

Somebody to die for.

Finan x OC; The Old Guard inspired Alternative Universe

Summary : Victoria’s life is rather simple until she has a car accident from which she ends up miraculously unscathed. A series of weird events animates her daily life, everything seemingly bringing her to a strange man. Until this very man knocks at her door.

Spotify Playlist • Masterlist

A/N : On ao3 I've got a comment telling me the slow burn was killing them, well... I hope this is killing yall too lmaooo

Warnings : fluff ;)

Chapter 8 : And I'm ready to suffer, and I'm ready to hope

Victoria has never found a more peaceful place than Osferth’s house before, it’s so far from London’s constant noise. Here the night is silent, occasionally interrupted by sounds of animals, which she sometimes finds scary enough to wake up Finan who’s sleeping on the mattress next to her bed in the living room. He usually answers her what wild animal is howling, enhanced with Irish curses as he tries to fall back to sleep. 

“Ya’re goin’ to know the sound of all the animals of this forest soon.” He comments one morning when she sits in front of him at the kitchen table.

She chuckles quite uncomfortably, guessing he’s starting to be annoyed of being woken up in the middle of the night. “I’m a city girl.” She shrugs innocently and Finan shakes his head.

Even if he’s grieving his friend’s loss, Finan keeps a rather good mood, which she supposes is due to Osferth. She regularly finds them laughing together, undoubtedly remembering old memories, which warms Victoria’s heart. She also gets to learn a lot about the monk who reveals to in fact be King Alfred the Great’s bastard son.

“So you’re royalty!” She exclaims, her fork falling back into her plate. 

“Not really.” He answers, looking down as he is ashamed of who he is while Finan is chuckling at her shock. 

“But, if you were a monk and a King’s son, how did you end up fighting for Uhtred?” She asked, the same curiosity she used to have for Finan growing for him. 

“My uncle used to fight alongside Uhtred.” He explains, his forks forming circles in the air. “I wanted to become a warrior like him.”

“And let me tell ya, that was a hard row to hoe.” He jokes at Vicky’s attention, pointing at Osferth who’s now pouting. “I've never imagined t'was so hard to hold a sword.” He giggles before taking a mouth full of vegetables while the monk blushes. “But we finally succeeded to make a good warrior of him after all.”

This time, the two men look at each other with pride, a small knowing smile gracing their faces. 

“I'd like to learn.” Vicky interrupts them suddenly. 

“What? To use a sword?” Finan frowns at her. “It's a little useless nowadays.” 

She rolls her eyes which only makes him smirk as he eats. “I'd like to learn whatever could help me to defend myself.” She explains with such determination that even Finan stops smirking to stare at her intently. “I don't want to be as useless as in London if something happens to us.”

She straightens her shoulder while holding Finan’s gaze, feeling the need to show him that she can be stronger than she looks. She thought of it a few times during the night, not dying is one thing but it still isn’t preventing her to be taken, Finan wouldn’t have been here that night, she’s sure she wouldn’t be standing here right now. And she even less wants to be a liability to the two men if anything has to happen.

She notices the flicker of hesitance on Finan’s face at the way the corner of his mouth tilts. “Please, Finan.” She insists and he finally sighs, lifting his head to the ceiling. 

“Alright I’ll teach ya.” He accepts, starting to eat again and only staring at her broad smile from the corner of his eyes. “But don’t imagine I’ll be easy on ya.” He warns her but she’s too happy to take in the warning and doesn’t even notice Osferth’s grimace at it. 

However, she soon learns that she should have taken it seriously. Vicky had a lot of sport teachers during school, more or less rigorous, but undoubtedly, none were matching Finan. He is very patient, able to show her movement a hundred times without getting annoyed, though, the lesson won’t end until she does it perfectly. He teaches her how to punch and kick correctly for a whole afternoon, her legs and arms aching at the end. She’s so exhausted that she doesn’t even wake up during the night because of animals and Finan is more than happy to finally have his sleep undisturbed. 

The next morning, after her training, Sophie comes to Osferth's place and gives a worried look to Vicky as she finds her sprawled, arms crossed and forehead resting on it. “Are you alright?” She asks, putting her hand on her back and then grimacing when she realizes she’s all sweaty. 

“Finan killed me.” She grumbles, her voice muffled by the caged formed by her arms. She finally straightens, stretching to try to make the discomfort of her painful muscles disappear. “I asked him to teach me how to fight, and I’m starting to regret it.”

Sophie laughs, sitting on the chair next to hers. “Osferth told me he was a ruthless teacher.” She explains to her and Vicky sighs in despair. 

Since they are here, Sophie comes everyday, and even stays some nights, erasing any of Victoria’s doubts about their relationship. She doesn't know the French well, but she does appreciate her already, another woman's ear always likeable. 

“I found something that could interest you.” Sophie says, taking her phone out of her pocket and opening an application before handing it to her. 

Vicky grabs it carefully and lets out a short breath at the newspaper article she's showing her. She reads the text surrounding the picture of her explaining where the police stand regarding her disappearance. She can't tell if it relieves her or not that they are clueless about it. Which for sure disappoints her is that they are as clueledd as them when it comes to the men who attacked them. She doesn't raise her eyes when she hears the front door opening nor when footsteps approach. She only looks away when she feels Finan's breath near her ear making her shiver as he leans over her shoulder, his hands clenched around the chair's back.

“What's that?” He asks, meeting her eyes briefly before staring at the screen.

She swallows and hands him the phone so he can read. “A record on what happened in London.” She explains as he straightens. “They don't know more than us.”

“Good.” He says, scrolling down the article and when he looks up from the phone, he is facing Vicky’s confused frown.

“But we could have learned more about their intentions.”

Finan shakes his head, giving her phone back to Sophie. “And by this, they’d get interest in us and it is the last thin’ we need.”

Vicky leans back in her chair. “Alright, but how do we get to know who they are and what they really want? Even if we hide, we are exposed because we don’t know our enemies.” She voices a relevant fact that even Osferth agrees with as he walks into the room, stopping to rest a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “We need to do research about them.” 

“With what?” The Irishman huffs. “All we have is a piece of paper and a revolver.”

Feeling the tension rising between Victoria and Finan, the French clears her throat. “Maybe, there was something that could be…” She searches a word, gesturing in the void. “Particular. An accent maybe?”

“They didn’t talk a lot but they were sounding English.” She answers leaving Finan’s eyes to give all her attention to Sophie. 

Finan does the same, crossing his arms. “They were fine trained men, if there’s more, it must be the case for them too.” He exchanges a serious gaze with Osferth, a silent conversation working between the two men. “We should arm ourselves, just in case.”

This time, it’s the two women who exchange an anxious glance. “I still have guns in the basement, a little old and in need of a good cleaning, but it’s better than nothing.”

On those words, the two old friends decide to spend the afternoon on restoring Osferth’s weapons. Victoria stares with wide eyes at the amount of them resting on the kitchen table, dusty revolvers and rifles. Sophie left earlier with a list of materiel to clean them and Victoria supposes they won’t have finished until nightfall at least. Her eyes instinctevely search for Finan, which she has realised doing more and more often, in the room and finally turns to the monk when she understands he isn’t here. He answers her that he is still in the basement, so she decides to join him, though she’s also curious to see what there is in it. She climbs down the ladder and jumps on the stoned floor. There isn’t much light, a simple old oil lamp allowing her to see Finan who’s staring intently at a sword he is holding. Vicky approaches him and can’t help but let out a sound of amazement as she admires the weapon, the flicker of the flame making the blade shine and a piece of amber ornamenting the hilt. 

“It’s a beautiful sword.” She says looking up to the Irishman whose eyes are glittering under the light. “Finan?” She calls him softly, her hands finding his arm. 

He blinks a few times and the tears have disappeared to let him smile. “It’s Uhtred’s sword, Serpent-Breath. I’ve never seen a better sword.” He explains with admiration.

He hands her the sword and she takes it carefully, surprised by the heaviness of it, wondering how it was possible to fight with this. But she must admit that it really is the result of a fine work, the blade, old and not as sharp as it must have been, but nonetheless impressive. 

“You have a sword too?” She turns to him again.

“Aye, but I’ve lost it a long time ago.” He shrugs sadly. 

She gives him back the weapon and lets him hang it on the wall. “What did you call it?”

He chuckles lightly before smiling broadly. “Soul-stealer.” He answers with a threatening tone but it only makes her raise her eyebrows as if she isn’t impressed at all.

“Terrifying.” She breaths, pretending to be scared. 

“Ya know, men used to call me Finan the Agile because I was a really good swordsman.” He explains, heading back to the ladder.

“Oh? And what about women?” She asks him with a teasing tone that definitely should have been thought about twice. She can’t help the rise of blush to increase as he just winks at her with a mischievous smirk before climbing up.

She curses herself for the sudden warmth in her belly as she wonders what his gesture implied. She shakes her head to make it vanish. When Sophie is finally back, they start restoring the guns, Osferth showing her how to clean a barrel correctly. She can’t help but wonder how many people have been killed with this gun as she holds one. It seems so easy to pull the trigger, in a second one is ripped of its life. She thinks back to the fight in her flat, at how Finan cold bloodedly killed the three men. Will she become like this as well if she learns how to use one? The question remains stuck in her mind until the night when Finan asks her what is troubling her. They are just the two of them in the living room as he sits next to her on the bed to remove his shoes.

She shifts uncomfortably, twisting her fingers. “What do you feel when you kill someone?”

Finan freezes at her question, still bent to unlace his shoes. “I feel bad.” He answers finally as he straightens. 

“Each time?” She asks him with an inch of surprise that makes her tone higher. “Even when they are bad people?” 

“No, it's not like that.” He turns his head to her and even in the dark she is fascinated by the intensity of his gaze. “The first man I killed was a Dane. I was still in Ireland, hunting with my father. He came out of a bush and I acted without thinkin'.” He scratches his beard before his hand slides down to grip what she supposes is the pendant hanging at his necklace. “No matter how many times I've heard people call them heathens or demons, when I saw his frightened eyes as life was leaving his body, I realised he was just a man. And I wondered who I was to take a man's life so easily.” His grip tightens, fisting his shirt as he sighs.

His hand drops on his thigh and he is close enough so his elbow brushes slightly against her arm. He looks down as if he is suddenly ashamed or scared of what she'll think of him and it makes her heart squeeze. In a little time, they both have reached a level of confidence with each other that Victoria didn't expect. Despite his lie, she finds herself unable to judge him. And it reassures her to know that after all he isn’t as insensitive as she thought. Her hand slides on his forearm until it reaches his wrist, her fingers tracing the swollen skin of a scar slashing his palm. Their proximity makes her face warm and she's glad that the darkness can hide it, so she leans to the side until her head rests on his shoulder. 

“Why did you ask?” He whispers, his breath brushing her forehead. 

She feels her heartbeat getting stronger and faster as she thinks of the right words.”When you fought that night, you did it without any hesitation. You just acted when I just stayed away utterly afraid. Now that I don’t want to be so useless anymore, I wonder if I’ll be able to act like you did, without thinking.”

“Ya don’t have to be like me.” He replies immediately, making her look up to him. “In fact, I’d prefer that ya weren’t.” He admits. 

“But one day I will. One day I’ll have lost all the people I care for and I’ll have suffered as much as you did.” She says and the way her heart aches at the simple idea makes her throat tighter. 

Finan shifts to better face her, his hands cupping her face and his thumb caressing her cheek even if there’s no tears to wet them. His eyes are staring at her with such softness despite how deep and dark they are, she feels like she could melt now and then. 

“I’ll keep ya away from that.”

Her heart misses a beat and her breath runs short. She can’t argue with him about the foolishness of such a promise, destabilized by how close his face is to hers, and because deep down she wishes he could be able to protect her from the pain. Him and no one else. His hot breath caresses her lips, making her whole body feel warm and for a brief second, she wonders how it would feel to have his mouth pressed against hers, how his beard would scratch her flushed skin. 

But before she can have an answer Finan moves away, breathing heavily. “I think we should sleep.” 

She barely has time to breathe a small ‘yes’ that he is lying in his own bed. She does the same, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart finds a steady rhythm again. She stares at the ceiling for long minutes, feeling suddenly so empty and cold. 

Tag :​ @for-bebbanburg @osferth @maggiescarborough ​ @finansarms ​ @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby @solinarimoon

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Squeeze by Fifth Harmony

Summary: When Shoto finds the safest place to be in was your arms.

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x fem! reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: slight mentions of his past, twinkle of angst

Quirk: Telepathy and telekinesis

A/N: Hi second imagineee, feedback/reactions will be very appreciated!!

End of the night, looking at me, what do you see?

Wish I could read your mind

All this powerful man craved was touch. A touch that can ease his mind. Ease his guarded heart. He was well known as Endeavors masterpiece but behind closed doors was less than a work of art as people visualized it. He was trained for years not even having the chance to live his youth with such joy and happy memories. Growing up he was restricted from talking to any kid that came his way, his father looking down on every child that wanted to become friends with his son thinking that no one can ever be enough for his Shouto. Shouto was above everyone else and Endeavor made sure to remind him that throughout the years.

When the incident of his scar came, he didn't hesitate to escape the house he lived in. No sibling could have ever prepared for that moment that changed his life.

Dimming the light, here in the dark, going by feel

Only the moon to guide

As he ran with tears in his eyes, he tripped on a rock making his knee scrape the ground leaving an ugly wound to it. The rain poured, even the skies cried for the poor boy who only wished to be normal and to be loved. Shouto hugs his knee letting his sobs echo through the empty street.

Rain stopped pouring over his head and he looks up with hurt eyes. His bi colored eyes land on a girl in a yellow rain coat hovering an umbrella over the two of them.

"You look really cool. Whatcha doing here? Mama says raining gets you sick." He sniffles as he looks at the girl with e/c eyes. Her head tilted as she wonders about the random boy. She looks at the boy who was hugging his knees when she finds an unpleasant wound on his knee. Her eyes widened as she grabs his hand dragging them to a corner where rain couldn't reach them. He was being dragged by a rather cute stranger and he had no choice but to follow her because he was lost in the thought of a girl holding his hand.

"You hurt ya self. What's the your name?" She asks removing the raincoat exposing her beautiful hair. He wiped his eyes turning around, scared that this interaction would cause him a consequence from his father.

"Stop talking to me, n-no one likes me. Go away." He says with sadness. He stands up with his head hung low. He was scared of talking to her. He hasn't interacted with anyone who sounded like an angel. He starts to walk away when the girl ran up to him, surrounding him in a hug. His eyes widened, his arms frozen, time suddenly stopping as he was focused on the tiny girl that was hugging him.

W-what is this feeling? A h-hug?

"Mama says when someone is hurt we should give them a big ole hug! I hope this makes you feel better! Mama always does this to me!" She cheers continuing to hug him. He sobs in her shoulder finally allowing his arms to reciprocate her embrace. They sit on the floor. To her it meant nothing, just a girl comforting a boy who was sad. To him, it was everything. Finally someone comforted him and she didn't push him away or scold him for crying. She was hugging him. Letting him know that crying wasn't weak like his father told him.

"I really think you look cool, pretty boy. I like your hair. Oh and your eyes! How did you make them like that?" He laughs at her questions wiping away his tears as he pulls away from the hug. She touches his hair and squeals at how cool the colors were and he softly smiles at her.

"What's your quirk? Can you change colors?" She asks with a lifted brow and he shakes his head no. She tilts her head at his movement looking at the cool boy with her curious eyes.

"No. My quirk is ice and fire. My dad says I shouldn't use it outside though." He pouts but she shakes her head. She grabs her by the shoulder looking at him with her big eyes.

"THAT'S. SO. COOL. Can you show me? Pleaseee?" With every word she shakes him as his face showed his shock with tight lips and wide eyes. He sees her pouting and sighs before removing her hands on his shoulder as he raises his left hand emitting a small flame from his palm. He touches the ground softly with his right hand making the ground frozen. She lets out a gasp as she rapidly claps her hands.

"YOU'RE SO COOL!" He smiles shyly at her.

"What's your quirk then?" He asks while she opened her mouth, his arm was harshly pulled. He was faced with an angry Endeavor.

"Father-"

"You! Get away from my son! A weakling like you should never come near him again. Shoto, come with me this instant." He says and you gather your raincoat, glaring at the man who hovered over you. Shoto looks at you, hoping this wasn't your last meeting.

"Please father-"

"NO! You are coming home leaving this rat. She doesn't deserve you, Shoto. Let's go." He says and as he drags his son who was trashing around desperately trying to reach the girl.

"Don't worry cool boy! I hope I helped! We'll play soon!" She screams, waving at him happily and this brings a slight smile onto his face. The words of his father blurring out as he was focused on the girl that brought him happiness from a single embrace.

I didn't even get her name.

Now that he's in UA being praised by his peers, his mind still lingers on the girl that made him feel safe. He wished he could've gotten her name, just something to remind him that she made him feel that way even if she was a stranger.

He sits at the back while he admires the girl that was laughing at Denkis English accent. He swears she was familiar. Mina leans her head on the sweet girl while she continues to laugh at Kaminaris poor attempt to flirt with her. Y/N turns to Shoto who already had his eyes on you. You simply blush at it but chose to look away ignoring the butterflies that surrounded your mind.

Despite him being a friend of yours, you couldn't hide the feeling of your heart when he walks by. Avoiding to sit beside him whenever you had lunch, scared to let him see your flustered cheeks. He always asked you if he wanted to half with his soba, noticing it was his favorite you decided to say no every time. Your friendship began when the annual Sports Festival came when you managed to land a battle against Bakugo. You and the hot headed were friends since you hang around Kaminari. But he didn't back down, even if he was fighting a friend. In the end, he won. But he regretted seeing your passed out state. Todorokis hands form a ball as he leaves his seat rushing to go to Bakugo.

"How could you do that to her?" Todoroki asks him as Bakugo rolls his eyes.

"What does it matter to you half and half? It's a battle. I had to win. " Todoroki glares at the blonde in front of him.

"I'm her friend too, shit head. You think I don't feel like shit seeing her like that." Todoroki rolls his eyes.

"Some friend you are then, Bakugo." He spat but Bakugo only shakes his head with a sly smirk on his face.

"And you're one protective ass boyfriend." Todorokis cheek warms at the thought but before he could defend himself the door creaks open to you sleepily rubbing your eyes with bandages.

"K-katsuki.. Todoroki?" You saw the two of them while Todoroki rushes to your side.

"Hey are you okay?" Todorokis tone softens as he sees you covered in bandages. You nod at him before looking over at Bakugo.

"You did good their, dumbass. You're boyf-" Todorokis eyes widen as he closes the door leaving a chuckling Bakugo behind.

"What was that?" You ask tilting your head as he stops in his motions. He takes in your expressions and his brows furrowed at the similarity.

Where do I remember that from?

"Expect nothing but nonsense from him."

He didn't mean to protective then but he couldn't hide the similarities of the young girl to you. You mirrored an angel in disguise in his eyes. He sees how you enjoy protecting people giving them your perfect smile. He only wished that it was you so it made sense to him when he started to like you. Once he's gotten all the pieces together, he could never let you go again.

And you wished the opposite.

The minute you saw his hair when he entered Class 1A. You knew it was him, the boy you had comforted when his father took him away before you can even get his name. He had grown into a handsome and powerful man, much reserved and guarded now. He also took in your presence but you hoped he wouldn't recognize you. You hoped that you were a forgotten memory. When you were a child you came back to where you had met the boy telling you're parents that you two were gonna play again. After a week of his disappearance you were broken at the thought of the cool boy never meeting you again.

But now you two were in the same room everyday.

Even after school.

There were moments when you would visit his room along with the others for a study. You would be the one to be left behind still answering a few questions you skipped, anxious to ask him a bunch of questions when him and the others were already finished.

"You sure you really don't need my help?" He asks with a chuckle seeing your stressed state as you just twirl the pencil in mid air, your focus long gone.

"I just couldn't catch up with you guys, I understand it- I really do. You guys are just too fast and I barely understood half of the things you said with the way Izuku kept rambling the equation." He laughs before getting behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he grabs the pencil you were toying with before pointing the pencil at the equation you've avoided. Your breath hitched at how nonchalant he was being this near to you.

When we're alone, I get so close

Give me your warmth I've never known

"I understand the Midoriya part, he was very confusing but I will help you." You couldn't even understand half of what he said while his head peaked on your left side, cheek to cheek with yours. Your telekinesis loosing control as some of his pencils were circling behind you two, your eyes wide and your stance tense. Your cheeks flushed red when he turns to look at you. Your heart literally screaming, beating so fast.

"I really hope you're not searching for the answer on my face. Oh well is there anything on my face? You've been staring at me for a while." He says monotone but his bluntness only brought you more trouble when he noticed you staring.

Please help me. You thought.

"N-no really there's nothing there you're just really pretty- t-the uh equation is pretty hard sorry I just keep getting distracted-" He laughs at you before pulling away from where he was positioned earning you the time to breathe.

"Now you do sound like Midoriya. Why don't you head back to your dorm? I'm happy to continue this equation if you're having a tough time with it." You shook you're head trying to reach the paper in his hand but he only lifts it higher considering he was way taller than you. You roll your eyes at his tease but he only smiles more.

"Please, I'm volunteering. Get back to your room and sleep well. I'm not asking for anything in return. "

"But-"

"Quiet, Y/N. It's really okay." You sigh in defeat as you step back. "Fine, thank you Shoto. Good night and you sleep well too. " You say to him and he gives you a nod.

"Goodnight, Y/N." As you close his door, you nearly couldn't walk back to your room at how nervous you are. Still in tact with your quirk as his pencils, pens, and notebooks were all in mid air twirling continuously. As he takes a sit to finish your equation, he jumped slightly at the sound of things falling beside him pressing his foot to the floor freezing it. His eyes widened at his stationary were all laid out on the floor, silently thanking that it wasn't some sort of bomb.

The moment he realized he needed you close to him was when the training camp incident began. Scared of the thought of you getting hurt without his protection. He knew this wasn't because he was your friend, he wanted to be more than your friend. At that moment, love blossomed in his heart thawing the ice that protected it.

When training camp began, none of you expected to be ambushed by villains. There you were seperated from him when blue flames surround the area. Villains came and attacked the students. As you were running to reach the building you were faced with Toga as she gives you a wave.

"My! You're so pretty~ I would love to borrow that sweet face of yours. Seems like I can't be your friend, deal with her for a while." Toga scurries away when your back came in contact with a Nomu. You ran away as he chased after you, you flew before removing a few trees and send their way to the Nomu. You're eyes glowing purple with the use of your quirk as you flew to the others helping them while gathering rocks and wood to be your weapons.

Shoto can see you from above as you gathered countless of rocks. He watches you as you raised your hand with a scream when you threw all of them to the villains that circled the Pussy Cats. Your purple aura circling around you like a fire but what you didn't notice was a man with a hand out directed to you shooting blue flames in your way sending you off, screaming at how painful the flames were as they touch your skin.

"Y/N!" Todoroki screams trying to run to the direction you flew off but he was stopped by Midoriya.

"Todoroki-san we have to save Kacchan. Y/N-chan can handle herself." Todoroki only agreed knowing Midoriya was right.

When Dabi had his hands on Bakugos neck, you flew heading straight for Bakugo but he disappeared before your eyes. Your eyes glowing more than usual as you sunk down to your knees feeling helpless that you couldn't save him.

When you turn around to see Todoroki who you have yet to seen for the entire night and you flew to him wrapping your arms around him as he quickly reciprocated your sweet embrace. You gripped his shirt, feeling overwhelmed to see the boy safe. Your mind easing at the sight of him without any wounds.

Face to face, caught in a wild embrace

"You're okay.." he whispers, thanking the stars she was safe and sound. Hugging her tighter before tears dampened his shirt.

"I c-couldn't save him-" You tried to reason but he only shushes you before you can say anything else.

"I know, I know but what matters right now is that you're safe here with me."

Since then his goal changed from being a hero to being your boyfriend who can always protect you. You also became more open with him as you come by his room whenever nightmares would surface and you did the same whenever he was at rage with his father.

Only you know how to save me

Now, you're all sat in the common room watching TV while you flew around trying to escape Bakugos wrath. Meanwhile, Kirishima was mindlessly switching channels he stops when he sees Endeavor and Hawks on the TV.

"I didn't know Endeavor and Hawks were friends- SHIT A NOMU! " Kirishima shouts averting everyone's attention to the TV. Shoto came running to watch. As the battle began, you bit your lip with worry as you watch his expressions. You didn't get want to use your telepathy to see what he was thinking, knowing you'd be pushing some boundaries if you do so. Everyone was tenses and cheering for Endeavor. When Endeavor was shut down you can feel his heart ache. Everyone else turned to him but soon came to turn back to the TV.

For the past minutes, all you could feel was how his heart was breaking with every blow his father receives but when his father raises a fist to the air while Todoroki falls to his knees, panting and sweating. Everyone was commanded to give him some space. He runs to his room, closing the door with a slam, his heavy breathing surrounding the room. Covering his face in his hands as he tried to calm his self.

You flew right to his room ignoring the screams from the others to let him have his space knowing that Todoroki needed more than space and silence. You opened the door to see him in his bed, knees to his chest as you hears his sobs. You immediately wrap your arms around him, running your hands through his split colored hair that you fell in love with. You used your telepathy to avoid him from replaying the moments in his mind.

Put your arms around me, baby

"It's okay, Sho. I'm here we're all safe. He's safe and he did amazing. You don't need to worry, I got you." He hugs you tighter as you comfort him caressing his back. You pressed a kiss to his hair. He hugged you tight, finding your arms to be his safe zone and he never wanted anything more than to be held by you all the time.

And squeeze

"Breathe for me okay?" He nods before leaning his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes taking in your words.

Remember the night talking to me

Saying the words I wanna hear the most

He was reminded of the angel that fell on his path when he was a kid but now his breathing calming down knowing the same angel that saved him before was here in his arms.

"Its always been you, Y/N." He says pulling away from your embrace as he places a hand on your cheek before pressing his forehead to yours making both of your cheeks flushed red.

"That night- when I was a kid. It was you. I found you." He says and you smile at his words.

"I found you too, pretty boy." He smiles at the nickname before pressing his lips to yours. You smile before kissing back your hand finding its way to his cheek pulling him closer. The stars were more than happy to see you two finally found each other. You both pull away as you look at each other. He hugs you again smiling to himself and you embraced him with all the love you had for him. With his heart happy and filled with love finally finding the girl meant for him he only thought to himself.

I've found my home.

[rosi-lei-luna]

Okay Hello its me again! May I please have a Obey me and Creepypasta match-up? Tysm in advance and please take your time! :D

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back. I'm also a very curious person and a big overthinker.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting. I love petnames too like doll, sugar, sweetheart, baby etc.

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider

All right this is my first time doing this so I’m sorry if its not the best TwT

For Obey Me! I chose Satan!!!

(Gif not mine)

Here are some small Satan headcanons for ya!

-Satan would love absolutely everything about you

-If you to were just chilling together he would trace your freckles and try to count them

-He would probably talk about cats and how they remind him of you (ex. They’re cute or He loves them but not as much as he loves you)

-I have a feeling that he would like 90’s rock too and would love listening and dancing to it with you

-I think he would call you baby or babe or something along those lines

-He wouldn’t be scared to be all lovey-dovey with you in front of people, but it would only be small gestures like holding you hand etc.

- He would love kissing you on your forehead, cheek and nose

-He would find your attitude quite amusing, and would always try his hardest to learn things that help with your anxiety, and wouldn’t make you talk about anything if you didn’t want to

bonus!-He would kill every spider he sees and he’s got AIM! Like he could just take a shoe or book and throw it at it and .BOOM! Dead spider.

For creepypasta I chose Ben Drowned!!

(Gif not mine)

- I personally headcannon him to be 5’3-5’4 or so where in between there so he would be glad there was another tiny person there

-I think he would also be intimidated by you at first but then eventually warm up to you

-He would let you go swimming but would Never get within 100 feet of water

-He would watch the horror movies with you because..y’know

-He also hates spiders with a burning passion like if he heard you scream and saw the spider he’d get someone else to kill it

-Y’know a lot of people headcanon Ben to be kinda Pervy, but I think he’s actually kinda shy when it comes to girls

-I don’t now why but I feel like he’d be really really good at handling anxiety with y’know all of the people he lives with (In the slendermansion) 95% of them have anxiety and he probably does to

-He would probably lay his head on your lap (If your comfortable with it!) While he’s playing video games or he’s just sleepy

Bonus!- Sally would persuade you into playing kingdom with her and Ben would always be the prince/ knight that saved you

I hope you like it. This was really fun to write. Request more things in the future bai~~